Curing the Love Bug
by BlackCatRunning
Summary: When it comes to love, they're both clueless. It'll take a cold, winter break and more hints than humanly necessary before love can bloom freely in the host club.  First fanfic, still trying to get the hang of this XD; Read and review, please :D!
1. It Begins

**A.N.— First post ever! I'm nervous XD.. Sorry the action is slow at the beginning. I was trying to set it up for pacing purposes ^^;.. I wanted to make it a believable plot. Feel free to offer any criticism. I really want to improve, and I want to contribute to this community in the best way that I can! (plus, who doesn't love OHSHC? LOL)**

**I love the show, but I think I still need to study the characters a little more so I can get them to act believably. I really love this anime, and I want to do it justice.**

Today made it about six months.

Six months since she had stumbled through that door.

Six months since she broke that vase, and made a promise to six boys that she would pay it back, whatever means necessary.

Six months since she met _him._ Her second father of sorts; her strange but loyal upperclassman. The Suoh boy, with the groomed blonde hair and the long legs. The nice smell, and the unnaturally cheery attitude. Even after all they had been through, Haruhi Fujioka still didn't know what she really thought of him.

He was just so-… extreme. Yes, extreme was a good word. Extreme in his ideas, his clothes, his actions and words, his feelings and even his friendships. Extreme was not always a bad thing, of course; Haruhi didn't mean it in a bad way. His Host Club was an outlet for boys and girls alike. It created relationships and good fellowship. With Kyouya and his clipboard, they even made incredible amounts of money.

She understood all this.

But it was _him_ that she still couldn't understand. He was so simple, yet so complicated at the same time. She worried sometimes, because he would never admit to being unhappy or in danger, even if he was on the brink of death. Not if it would upset someone.

He cared too much. She couldn't decide whether this made him a good or bad person.

She watched him now, sitting at a dainty table in the music room, waiting to host for the next girl to come along. It was in the dead of winter, when the world was cold and sleeping, and while the heaters blazed and kept the room cozy and warm, most of the girls had already gone home for Christmas break. It was slow today.

Tamaki entertained one of the few still left behind, leaning close to her, one elbow against the wall, the other arm circling around to pull her close to him. She blushed red with giggling pleas of, "Oh, Prince Tamaki!" Haruhi couldn't help but smile at his work. He could drive just about any girl to the wall, couldn't he?

That's when she saw it.

It was the faintest of movements. So subtle she could hardly detect it, and she wouldn't have if she hadn't been staring directly at him. Tamaki's body went rigid, face clenching with a struggling slowness as he turned quickly to the side. There was no noise, but his body spasmed gently, before he turned back to face his client. The girl, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, head tilted up for a kiss from the prince, did not see it. He merely turned her head to the side, and pecked her cheek, murmuring something to her that made the poor thing go red and start giggling uncontrollably. Haruhi frowned, wondering at what he could have been doing in that one moment, before she was interrupted.

Kyouya's voice suddenly spoke up from behind her, the customary scratching of his pen to the paper pressed to his clipboard accompanying it. "Bored are we, Haruhi?"

Haruhi glanced up at him. Her cheek was propped up against her hand as she leaned on the table, posture slouched. The room was very warm, and nothing was really happening, so it was making her groggy. "I guess so. There's really nothing to do."

Kyouya's voice never changed cadence. "There is always something to do when it comes to serving the club."

Haruhi's eyes rolled to the ceiling. Typical Kyouya. She stirred from her seat reluctantly, expecting some sort of order from her upperclassman. He was always ready with another task. Such an organized man. Before he was able to speak, however, a sudden body weight crashed into her and hugged to her mercilessly.

"Oh, how's Daddy's little girl today?"

She had to clench her hands to keep from smacking him away, like she would a naughty dog. "Senpai, will you please get off of me? You're kind of heavy."

Kyouya glanced up at them, at her situation, and then looked back down and continued with his endless work. Nothing phased him, that one. Haruhi had to glare at him for a spare moment as Tamaki nuzzled his cheek against hers. Kyouya was a money-maker, and he was a level-head, but he was certainly no help to her half the time. Tamaki continued to smother her with his love, or whatever he liked to call it, until she elbowed him hard enough to loosen his hold so she could slip away. She saw he was on the verge of a pout, so she hurried into conversation.

"So, are we done after today? It's Christmas vacation, right?"

Tamaki hung his head, and then looked back up his usual grandeur and flare, extending a hand dramatically to the near distance. "Ah, yes! The brisk chill in the air, the muted atmosphere, and all the snow to come! Such a romantic time of year."

As he started flourishing, spinning around, Haruhi rolled her eyes and tried to disguise her waning tolerance, not that he would notice anyway. Here was his extreme behavior again. Being so close to the break, her patience had since worn thin. As Tamaki droned on, Haruhi watched the window, tracing the ice along the panes. It just kept getting colder and colder out there. Snow couldn't be far away. Pretty soon she would be shoveling snow off the walk, wearing her heaviest coat and curling up with a book on the sofa. Just her and Dad, which usually meant just her. Relaxing.

She blinked at the sudden weight on her shoulders, and glanced at each one to see identical elbows resting on them. A pair of voices spoke to her.

"Day-dreaming, Haruhi?"

Haruhi looked up at the both of them, the twins. They glanced down at her with their golden eyes, both looking a little mischievous; that was normal for them. Hikaru reached down and swept some hair from her eyes. The background noise of Tamaki's voice faded away as he watched them. Haruhi couldn't be sure, but it looked like he was caught between pouting and gritting his teeth.

"Not really," Haruhi said, sighing and looking out the window again.

"Certainly not about me, I hope," Hikaru said, grinning. There was a purr in his voice that tired her out. It was too close to break for this. Kaoru's elbow lifted from her shoulder, and she didn't even have to look behind to know they were at it again.

"Hikaru?" Kaoru asked. Hikaru grabbed his brother.

"Oh, Kaoru. I dream about you every night!"

They both clung to one another, faces close, and Haruhi was about to take it as an opportunity to slip away when they both turned their heads to face her, wearing identical smiles. She tried to dodge, she really did, but they were both about as fast as Tamaki when it came to molesting her with affection.

They grabbed her by the arms, crushed her between them, and embraced her even as she protested. "You guys! Stop it!" she said, trying to squirm free. "Let GO!"

"I'll save you, Haruhi!" Tamaki sailed in, always the knight in glimmering armor-at least in his eyes. "Daddy's coming!"

Due to the speed in which Tamaki was travelling, it was very difficult for him to stop. The twins knew this, and they both calmly extended one leg out to the side, pivoting their bodies to the side as they cuddled Haruhi tight. Tamaki tripped and went face down into the floor. Needless to say, the Hitachiin brothers burst into hysterics. Thanks to the Prince's ineptitude, Haruhi pushed her way out of their arms and into freedom. She didn't bother paying any mind to the pouting senpai on the floor.

"Kyouya-senpai, if there's nothing else I should be doing, can I just go home?" she asked, adjusted her rumpled shirt lapels. Kyouya said nothing for a moment, scribbling something in his notebook before snapping it closed. He pushed his glasses up with one finger.

"I suppose," he said, before putting his hand on his hip. "but I will expect you to keep in touch over winter break. Just because school is not in does not mean the club activities shut down."

Haruhi hung her head, groaning audibly. Did she really have to come out over break to be with these people? Sure, Honey and Mori-senpai weren't so bad, but they were both contending in international kendo competitions, far away from Japan. They wouldn't return until after winter break. That meant-… she turned to look at the scene. Evil overlord and slave-driver, conniving and mischievous twins and resident idiot-hero prince. Dealing with them… over break… alone… She felt a headache coming on.

"You shady twins! If you molest my Haruhi one more time, I'll-"

"Seriously, boss? You're calling us the perverts? Every time you look at her you overflow with pedo-drool."

"Yeah, boss. Compared to us, you're a sicko."

Tamaki, mouth agape in shock, resorted to his usual method of dealing with the twins. Mindless, comical rage. He pointed an accusing finger at them, face flushed pink. "Shut up! That's a lie! A father never looks at his daughter like that, and if he does, he should be committed to death!"

Haruhi just sighed as she gathered her things, rolling her eyes as the twins started a rousing chorus of "Boss is a perv!" Kyouya stood nearby making a few last minute additions to his hand-written document before he took long, curt strides towards his coat and bag. Haruhi had no idea how could stand all the noise those three made.

"Remember," he told her, lacing a scarf around his neck as Tamaki stamped one of his feet against the tile, shouting himself hoarse, "the club meets back here tomorrow, even if school does not. Understand?"

Haruhi nodded as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Yeah, I guess so. If I have to."

Tamaki, by now on the verge of flying into a physical display of violence, had Hikaru by the collar and was shaking him vigorously. "FOR THE LAST TIME, I AM NOT- hehhh-!" He interrupted himself with a shuddering inhale, eyes growing heavy and fluttering shut. His grip slackened, and Hikaru took advantage of Tamaki's momentary lapse, easily slipping out of his range. Both the twins, arms crossed, mirror images of one another, observed as Tamaki struggled with a mightily-building sneeze. He was frozen, arm hovering near his face as one of his hands desperately groped his pants pockets to locate a handkerchief, when the sensation suddenly verged on him. He doubled over, burying his face into his arm with a wrenching, "Heh-esskchhhii!" A moment, a ripping gasp, and then another, more potent, "Heh-esskchiiIIII!" He stayed in that hunched position, face concealed completely into the crook of his arm before he sniffled and looked back up, bleary from the sudden exertion. Some of his blonde hair had fallen into his face, and he smoothed it back with one hand, twitching his nose once to the side. The twins seemed moderately impressed by the size and volume of the action.

"Sheesh, boss," Hikaru said, laughing a little as he leaned against his brother. "Never seen you do that before. You always sneeze when you're denying stalking-charges?"

Kaoru smirked and threw an arm around his twin's shoulder. "Nice rebuttal, boss. Really."

Haruhi, after watching the way Tamaki seized up as he sneezed, realized that he must have stifled one earlier when speaking with his client. Now that he was alone with his friends, he probably didn't worry so much about appearances. "Bless you, senpai."

Tamaki glanced over at her, trying to regain a princely composure whilst sniffling wetly behind his wrist. It was not going well, but that didn't stop him from lunging toward her to give her a hug.

"Oh, isn't she so cute! Blessing her Daddy like that!" he said it even as he punctuated the statement with a liquid sniff. Kyouya, with the faintest expression of distaste, extended one of his own handkerchiefs to the boy, keeping the Suoh stationary as Haruhi retreated from his general area. Getting hugged by Tamaki was annoying enough, and it would just be disgusting if he did it with a runny nose. Tamaki snatched the square of fabric gratefully and blew his nose; the sound he produced made all the other club members wrinkle their noses in disdain.

"Ewww, boss! Gross!" The twins spoke in chorus, and they both hooked Haruhi, who was collecting her things, by the arms and starting dragging her out. Hikaru watched Tamaki over his shoulder as he spoke. "We don't want to catch your creeper cooties!"

"Shut up, Hikaru!"

"He's not Hikaru, boss. _I'M_ Hikaru," said Kaoru, grinning at Tamaki while Hikaru rested his elbow to his brother's shoulder.

"Both of you! SHUT UP!"

And so ended the last day of school, the first day of winter break, and the beginning of what Haruhi believed would be a personal nightmare.

It wasn't like she hated them all, exactly. No, hate was too strong a word. It was just that-…

This was HER break. HER time to be alone, to work, to eat and sleep and spend time doing things that SHE liked to do. But, that never seemed to work out for her. Last summer, when she attempted to get some extra money by working at a tranquil inn, ended with the entire club showing up to botch her plans. Now they were monopolizing her winter break. She should have expected it, she supposed. With those rich people, she could never cut a break.


	2. It Carries On

She sauntered into Music Room #3 on time, albeit reluctantly, and counted the faces. Hikaru, Kaoru and Kyouya. Tamaki, who never seemed to be late a day in his life, was not there yet. It struck her as strange, almost. The room seemed incomplete, nearly empty, without him. It reminded her back to the dark few hours the club suffered without its president due to his self-sacrifice. She tried not to think about it, for practical reasons. She liked the club, and Tamaki was the force that kept it alive.

Haruhi strolled to a table and sat down her things. The twins were on her in less than a second.

"Hey, Haruhi," they chorused. She rolled her eyes. It was a wonder she hadn't strained a muscle in all the times she had done it in the past few months. Kyouya was dialing a number on his phone, face impassive.

"Hey, guys," she said. She didn't bother trying to sound excited to see them. She never really was; especially not today. "What are we even doing today?"

Hikaru, blatantly ignoring her, reached down to finger a lock of her hair. "Say, Haruhi. Isn't your hair getting kind of long? You should cut it again."

"Yeah, she's starting to look like a girl," Kaoru said, cocking his head and squinting his right eye. "People will start suspecting."

"You know, you're absolutely right, Kaoru!" Out from the pocket of his lapel, Hikaru yanked out a pair of craft scissors. "For the sake of the club, I will cut this hair!"

Haurhi ducked out of his grip immediately, jogging across the room. "Oh, no you don't! Don't come near me with those things! I'll cut it myself when I get home." But no matter what she said, the twin menace relentlessly dogged her. She even went to the extreme ends of hiding behind Kyouya, who merely stepped out of the way as he pressed his free hand over one ear, chatting with someone on the phone.

Hikaru managed to snatch a hold of her sleeve, laughing a triumphant "Ha HA!" as he did so. Kaoru rubbed his hands together, eyes gleaming as Hikaru lifted the scissors into the air, like a barbarian warrior saluting his sword. Of course he wasn't really going to do it. Haruhi had a feeling he wouldn't. But she didn't want to give him the chance, just in case. With vigor, she jerked from his hold and stumbled backwards into the arms of someone else. She at first suspected it was Kaoru, ready to hold her down, but Kaoru was standing next to Hikaru. Kyouya was on the phone. So that meant-…

"Just what are you perverts doing to my little girl?"

Tamaki. It would be her responsibility to prevent another verbal throw-down. She sighed through her nose, looking up at him. "It's nothing, senpai. They were just-"

She paused when she saw him. Her view was distorted since she was looking up at him, but even upside down she could see the pallor to his skin, the masked bags beneath his eyes. He carried a fatigue with him, she could feel it in his grip. He looked-…sick. Haruhi opened her mouth to say something about it, when Hikaru butted in.

"Oh, boss," he said, tossing the scissors aside. "You always ruin all the fun. Just because you like touching Haruhi doesn't mean you get her all to yourself."

Haruhi yelped as Tamaki suddenly flung her away, and as she caught her balance she listened to him stutter.

"I-I do NOT like t-touching her! How dare you insinuate something like that! I was protecting my little girl from the likes of YOU two!"

"Excuses, excuses," said Kaoru. By now, Kyouya had hung up and was now organizing papers into some folders. When Tamaki took a moment to work up another rejoinder, Kyouya quickly interjected.

"We need to plan out the itinerary for the New Year's Festival, and then we need to create some themes for the spring season. Everyone needs to have input, so let's all sit at a table."

Kyouya has them all sit together in a specific order, to minimize quarreling and distractions. The twins sat next to each other, as did Tamaki and Kyouya (across from the twins), and Haruhi sat at the head of the table, between Kyouya and Kaoru. The clever Ootori was sure to keep Tamaki and Hikaru as far away from Haruhi as possible.

From her position, Haruhi could see everyone's face easily, and while Kyouya droned on about financial reports and creative endeavors, she was hard pressed to stay focused. She ended up just observing her friends, barely listening to Kyouya's plans for the future.

She watched him though, the way he constantly adjusted his glasses, never stumbled on a word, had everything he needed immediately at his disposal. He was always so poised. Even if he was the third son, he still had great promise, amazing potential. More so than his brothers, perhaps. Tamaki was the first to recognize this.

Then the twins. She knew they were two different people, even if they didn't notice. When separated, their personalities bloomed into their respective colors. Kaoru, for example, seemed to be the only one really listening to Kyouya. Granted, he probably wasn't, but he was at least being quiet and fairly well-behaved. Hikaru, on the other hand, was drawing on his hand with an expo marker. He did nothing to mask his boredom. Haruhi smiled a little at them. How different, and they didn't even realize it. Tamaki, apparently, had been the first to recognize this too.

Tamaki. He was such a strange boy. He was so stupid, but yet he could always surprise her with his perceptive ability. He really was blind to his own feelings. He couldn't understand himself. Then again, did she? Did anyone understand that idiot? She looked at him now, and frowned almost without thinking. The Suoh prince was nodding in his seat. But not the good-natured, nap-like nodding. She could see now that he was exhausted. His lips were slightly parted, and she could see that he kept swallowing, probably because his throat was dry. Definitely sick, she thought. Why did he come? Why did he even bother? He should know better.

"Sen-"

Kyouya interrupted her. "Oh, so you _do_ have an idea for the cherry blossom exhibit? When you didn't speak up, I thought you weren't listening to me." The Ootori son smiled at her, but she couldn't help but feel uneasy with him. Kyouya was obviously peeved that no one seemed to care about his briefing meeting, but he wasn't going to say anything about it. Haruhi blinked for a moment, collecting herself, then lifting her chin.

"No, Kyouya-senpai, I don't. But-"

She was interrupted yet again, but this time by her other senpai.

"Heh-esskchii!... heh-.. hhehhhh.." Tamaki had his sleeve over his face again, eyes fighting to come open as he teetered on the edge of a sneeze. "..hhehhh-.. haa.. HEH-esskchiii!.. EsskkchIII!"

Hikaru, across from Tamaki, was leaning back in his chair, away from the table, to prevent himself from getting sprayed by any stray germs. "Geez, boss! Warn a guy, would ya?"

Kyouya, who was next to Tamaki, tried to offer another handkerchief. "Really, Tamaki. Try to be polite."

Tamaki, eyes still foggy, reached out for the donation but then flinched back. He turned away from the table, hand hanging onto the edge in order to give himself support. He panted, sniffling like mad, rubbing at his nose, trying to urge it on. The sneeze was just sitting there, tingling, itching him like crazy. He huffed another ragged breath. It wasn't long before he released a wet, vicious, "HEH-ESSHCCIIIII!" over his lap. He remained curled like that, unmoving, before determining he was finished. Sitting back up, he took the handkerchief from Kyouya with a groggy thanks before doubling over the blow his nose. Again, the present members of the host club were revolted by the noise.

Haruhi, while repulsed, felt a twinge of worry. It wasn't like him to get sick. She couldn't remember a time when he was sick. Well, there was that one time when he had a bad fever, but he was mostly just being an idiot. For whatever reason, this seemed more real and, to an extent, more discomfiting. Perhaps it was because he was trying so hard. He didn't need to be here, she could see that. But he felt like he did.

Kyouya too seemed more concerned than usual, and that brought the Hitachiin brothers around. If Kyouya was troubled by it, than it wasn't just Tamaki being a bonehead. No one said anything. Hikaru, capping his marker and staring at the now self-conscious Tamaki, furrowed his brow.

"Wow, boss. You-… really don't look good."

"Yeah, boss," Kaoru said, agreeing with his brother. "What were you thinking, coming out here like this?"

Haruhi wanted to ask him the exact same question. Why would he do this to himself? He was always doing things like this. Couldn't he see that they wouldn't have minded if he had stayed home? No one was listening to Kyouya anyway.

Kyouya stared at Tamaki, leaning forward to catch the blonde's eye. "Well? Explanation?" he asked. Tamaki, who had up until now been staring at the table, buckled under the collective staring.

"I've let you all down enough already," he said quietly, clearing his throat afterward. His voice sounded gravelly. "I'm always doing stupid stuff, costing the club. I even ran out on you once." His hands clenched around his handkerchief. "I just never want to do that again, all right?"

Tamaki glanced up at the four pairs of eyes staring at him, looking slightly sheepish about the entire thing. A few moments later, and Tamaki had pasted on his pouting face. "What? Are you guys mad at me or something?" When no one said anything, he sat up straight and felt the need to defend himself. "I'm just being a good president!"

"Yeah, but what kind of friends would we be if we let you go around sick like this, huh?" Hikaru asked, his tone fairly derogatory. "Really, boss. You're so dense."

Kaoru had his chin on one of his hands, elbow on the table. He looked unimpressed, but he was smiling. "You need to get a grip. Stop thinking about us so much, you know?"

Kyouya was watching him, looking neither surprised nor exasperated. He just seemed amused, as if he expected this answer from him all along. "All right, all right. We'll just call off the meeting. Tamaki, let's get you back home." He stood up from the table, reaching to lift Tamaki by the arm, when he noticed the sudden catch in the young man's breath. He sighed, fishing out yet another clean handkerchief. Kyouya had come prepared, because he had predicted that something like this would happen, judging from the sound of Tamaki's voice last night over the phone.

Kyouya sighed as he recalled the ridiculous conversation. Tamaki called him at half past one in the morning to complain about not being able to sleep. Kyouya, due to his low blood pressure, of course flew into a misdirected rage at the idiot and Tamaki hung up practically cowering. But perhaps he shouldn't have been so harsh, since Tamaki now seemed to have a reason for his insomnia.

He handed the blonde his handkerchief, still supporting him with one hand on his arm. Only one glance at the Prince's face, and Kyouya could tell that some formidable sneezes were on the way. Tamaki was caught completely in the throes of a powerful, wavering sensation, and he couldn't do anything but stand there and endure it. His nostrils would flare at each tickling seizure, his breath catching at each false start. He kept lifting the handkerchief to his face in preparation, only to lower it again when nothing came of it. His eyes were half-closed; not completely overtaken by the feeling, yet still preoccupied enough to lack true awareness. His breaths were slightly audible as he rubbed at the edge of his nose vigorously with the palm of his hand.

Hikaru and Kaoru found the entire display to be hysterical, and they openly pointed and laughed as Tamaki, through heady, breathy exhales, attempted to shut them up. Kyouya seemed unfazed by the whole thing. The dark haired Ootori stood erect, one arm as support for Tamaki, the other resting on his hip. He seemed to be thinking of other things, about more complicated, practical things, than Tamaki's increasing agony.

Haruhi was affected a little differently than the others. She was never one to poke fun, and while she would usually take Kyouya's route of dealing with this kind of situation, staring at Tamaki's face made it difficult for her not to think one specific word: CUTE. It was an offhanded thought, and one that she didn't give much credence to. It bothered her, thinking that way about the Suoh Moron, but even as she tried to look away, her eyes kept flickering back to his struggling face, his twitching features. When he caught her eye, she even smiled at him (even though she hadn't planned to).

"Geez, senpai," she said, cocking her head to the side as her smile faded away. "That must be one heck of a cold."

Maybe it was her voice, or the sight of her smiling at him that did it. Maybe it was the way she looked, just then, head tilted to the side so slightly. Whatever it was, the thrumming in Tamaki's nasal passages hummed to a frenzy and he finally staggered forward with an impressive, "Heh-ESSKKCHII!"

And he didn't stop there.

"Ehhhh-!.. Heh-esskchii!" He snapped forward again, and Kyouya grunted with the force. Tamaki heaved a huge inhale, summoning up his strength to try and brave the onslaught. "EsschII! ESKCHIII!.. hhhuhhh.. ESSSCHII!" Each one sent him stumbling forward, Kyouya getting pulled along for the ride each time. There was one more hanging there, spidering and beating along the inside of his nose, lapping at the sides, engulfing his airways until he could do nothing but wish the impulse upon himself. As he geared up, lungs seizing sweet air, Kyouya pinned a white handkerchief over Tamaki's face to keep him from spreading any further germs. The previous hankies that Kyouya gave him were forgotten during the attack.

Haruhi stared along with the twins, caught between disgust, horror and sheer shock. Tamakai was such a gentle boy. He was eccentric, excitable, and prone to frequent nervous-breakdowns, but she had never seen him do through something so violent. His sneezes were regular natural disasters, and what's more, he couldn't seem to stop once he got the urge to begin. Both the Hitachiins were blinking in unison, eyes wide, evidently waiting upon the final release.

Tamaki froze, shuddered, then buckled down with a resounding, throat-ripping, "HEHIIAA-CHIIIIIIIIIII!" straight into the handkerchief. While the small cloth did prevent the spread of germs, it did nothing to dampen the sound. Kyouya was visibly displeased with the fact that Tamaki practically sneezed into his hand, but he folded up the cloth nonetheless. Tamaki was panting, face sheeted white with two glowing orbs of flushed heat at his cheeks. He closed his eyes.

Haruhi, due to the utter astonishment, didn't say anything at first. A few seconds ticked by before she remembered her manners. "God bless you, senpai."

The brothers didn't say anything. What could they really say after that? They couldn't very well make fun of it, since it seemed that Tamaki went through a literally exhausting ordeal. Kyouya, expression serious, tugged a little at Tamaki's arm.

"We're taking you home, all right? Are you okay?"

Tamaki didn't speak, but nodded his head. He straightened up, making it only one step before he faltered and fell forward. Kyouya caught him by yanking his arm, and Hikaru rushed in to support his front. His hands pressed to Tamaki's chest and shoulder, and through the fabric he could feel the clammy dampness to Tamaki's clothes. He pasted a hand on the Suoh's forehead, only to jerk back.

"Damn, he's burning up!" His eyes darted to Kyouya as he wiped his hand on his pants, then looking over his shoulder at his brother. Kaoru, eyebrows knitting together as concern slowly crept upon his face, joined Hikaru at Tamaki's opposite. The Ootori withdrew from them, so the twins were supporting Tamaki on both sides, flanking him, keeping him steady. Haruhi hung in the balance. Why was everything either completely idiotic or frightfully serious with Tamaki? She watched the blonde boy, his head hung forward, only moving enough to breathe. She jumped when Kyouya addressed her.

"Haurhi," he said, adjusting his glasses with the steely calm he always carried, "Your house is nearest to the school, correct?"

A chilling finger ran up her spine. She didn't like where this was going. "Well, yes, but-"

"And because Tamaki has a fever, it would be wise to have him lay down in a comfortable environment very soon, yes?"

Haruhi scoffed, doing her best not to grit her teeth. Not this again. "Maybe, but-"

"Road trip to Haruhi's house!" the twins said, leering at her with their customary grins. She visibly wilted in her defeat. To refuse would be to turn Tamaki out onto the street with Kyouya and two jerks. They could always call for a cab, but-… she glanced up at Tamaki, his face, his sudden vulnerability-… He really was a hopeless one, wasn't he?

"Fine," she relented, tone firm as she attempted to establish ground rules, "but my dad's home today, and you know how he feels about Tamaki-senpai, so-"

Kyouya and the twins brushed past her, not bothering to take her warning to heart. Haruhi sighed, but it wasn't as if she expected anything else from them. The twins were careless, and Kyouya always had a scheme tucked up his sleeve, so it didn't matter what she had to say. Tamaki was too feverish to listen, but even in a coherent state she couldn't imagine him paying much attention to her either.


	3. It Thickens

**A.N.: Forgot the disclaimer! T_T. I promise I do not own any of the Ouran Characters, the anime, the liscensing, etc. :D**

Her home wasn't far, but the twins complained anyway.

"Sheesh, you think the boss could lay off on the sweets. He looks light, but he's got it packed away somewhere," Hikaru groaned, adjusting Tamaki's arm over his shoulder. "And he's breathing on me. If I get what he's got, I'm going to wring his neck."

"Try and be tolerant, Hikaru," Kaoru said, staring straight ahead. He grinned at his brother. "Even if he secretly weighs about a million pounds."

"We should tell him when he wakes up."

This branched off into a series of Tamaki-related jabs, but Haruhi knew what they were doing. Laughing it off. They were nervous, just like she was. Like her, they didn't want to acknowledge it. She couldn't tell if Kyouya was nervous about Tamaki's health. From the way he walked, hands in his pockets, strolling along the sidewalk under a gray sky, he didn't seem too worked up.

They were in sight of the house when the first raindrop fell. And another. And another. Kyouya's demeanor altered slightly, and he swiveled around to issue a command.

"He doesn't need to be wet on top of everything else," he advised, voice strong but maybe too strong. "Come on."

They jogged the rest of the way and managed to make it to the door before anyone was soaked. Kaoru was the wettest one of all (having to stop and grab one of Tamaki's shoes that had slipped off), and he was only damp. Ranka piped up from the living room.

"Why, Haruhi! You're back early. I thought you would be-" His voice died off as he peeked into the entryway to see four familiar faces. He approved of three of them, and one he did not. "And you brought your wonderful friends! And that idiot."

Haruhi, for Tamaki's sake, tried to smooth out the ice in her father's tone. "Dad, Tamaki's sick. He has to rest here until he has enough strength to get back home."

"Why can't Kyouya just call a car?" He looked imploringly at Kyouya. "That would work, right?"

Kyouya smiled absently at Ranka, brushing off some drops of water from his hair. "I think it would be best to have him recover some energy before we make drastic moves."

"Can we put him down now? Seriously, he's heavy," Hikaru said, grunting as he once again altered Tamaki's position. Kaoru didn't say anything, but it was apparent he felt the same. General consensus was Tamaki needed a quiet place, warm and comfortable, and somewhat private so he could sleep while the others socialized. Therefore, much to Haruhi's annoyance and chagrin, Tamaki was placed in her room. Ranka wasn't fond of the idea, but there was no real guest bedroom and he certainly didn't want the boy in _his_ room. So, Haruhi's it was.

Then they discussed who would look after Tamaki. At first no one seemed up for the job. The twins were convinced that he was fine and didn't need watching, but Kyouya (and even Ranka to an extent, after gauging Tamaki's fever) advised that the Suoh boy be monitored, at least loosely. The conversation grew so ridiculous that Haruhi finally sprung up out of her seat and announced her opinion, pointing at each at the table in turn. Here was her assessment:

"You," she pointed to Kyouya, "just aren't cut out for this kind of thing." She accosted the twins. "And _you_ two would just ridicule him." Finally, to her father. "And you would just scare him half to death. I'll do it."

And with that, she swept off into her bedroom.

She was in there for almost an hour without interruption

She changed into more comfortable house clothes, brewed some tea for herself and guests, made broth for Tamaki and put it into a thermos to keep it warm. Then she closed her door, ignored the cries of her father and the twins, and sat down near Tamaki to study. She would do homework while she watched him, kill two birds with one stone. However…

She thought it wouldn't be distracting.

Haruhi didn't think that Tamaki in this state, would be the most fascinating Tamaki of all. It was strange to see him so quiet, so peaceful. Just laying there, like that. Of course it was terrible that she preferred the company of an ill, suffering Tamaki rather than an ecstatic healthy one. She tried to convince herself that it wasn't such a bad thing, but it still sounded terrible.

During the course of the hour, she would find herself staring at Tamaki, watching him struggle to breath, wheezing slightly. She would adjust the cloth on his forehead, check his cheeks for fever and even go so far to wipe his nose when it ran. There was an odd feeling in her stomach when she did things like this, mothering him, touching him. A fluttery, clenching feeling that didn't make her want to throw up, but it always took her off guard. It wasn't a negative feeling, but it was strange and foreign to her. She was aware of the saying, "butterflies in your tummy," but she didn't understand how something like that could be applied to this situation. She chalked it up to her hunger and the warm room and ignored it.

Only a few moments passed before Tamaki started stirring. Haruhi, wanting him to wake as quietly as possible (so he wouldn't attract the attention of the annoyances in the other room), tried to mollify everything around him. He wasn't completely awake yet, eyes still closed as he moaned, stretching his body.

"Haru-…" His voice trailed off into silence. She felt heat on her face. Was he trying to say her name, or…? She pushed it from her mind, glaring at the floor. What did it matter? Why was everything so weird with him today? Dealing with Tamaki was usually a pain, but today it felt-… special. Almost fun. _Why?_

The moment his breath caught, hitching on a shaky exhale, she knew what was coming. Tamaki hadn't sneezed around her often, but she knew the warning sounds well enough by now. He was still half asleep, head tilted to the side, nose twitching a little as he frowned. Even semi-unconscious he was aware of his plight. She couldn't stop herself from smiling a little at him. They were always getting stuck, weren't they? Every time it was a battle to get those sneezes out. She could see in his face, the way he was breathing, that they were very close.

Haruhi blinked when she suddenly remembered an old trick her dad used to do. Whenever a sneeze was stuck, he would have his daughter sniff a potent source of perfume. That would usually be enough. So Haurhi went to her dresser, picking up a pink, translucent bottle, and wet her wrist with it. She sprayed at least four times. Kneeling next to Tamaki, finally feeling back to her old self around him, she lifted her skin right under his flaring nostrils. The effect was nearly immediate.

Tamaki seized with a gasp of air, before snapping forward with such force, that he doubled in half. "HAH-CHIIKSSSHHHIIII!"

There was only one this time, and he fell back against the sheets with a groan after it was over. Sniffling once, he stared at the ceiling. It was nice to be home in his bed. After such a long day with the club; loved them though he did, he felt like crap. Laying in the warm confines of his-

"Bless you, senpai."

Tamaki screamed and bolted upright, only to cringe with the vertigo that followed. Haruhi scolded him instantly. "Senpai, you have to take it easy. You still have a fever."

"Haurhi!" His face boiled to a simmering shade of sunburn. His mouth struggled to form words. "Wh-Why are you in my house?"

She laughed quietly at him, shaking her head. "You're so stupid. You're in _my_ house, senpai. You fainted at school, and we all thought it would be a good idea to have you rest here." She conveniently forgot to mention she was against it in the first place. Reaching forward, she pressed a hand to his chest, pushing. "Lay down."

Tamaki nearly went into a nosebleed when her hand went to him. Since when did she touch him so much? And they were alone, in her HOUSE! How lewd! His face deepened in shade, throat convulsing as he spoke. "Th-Th-This is indecent!" he said, and even though they were both fully dressed it felt like they might as well have been naked or something. He automatically started throwing back the covers. "I should go, I should definitely go-!" But the dizziness returned, verging upon him quickly, and he closed his eyes at the onslaught.

Haruhi was startled by his sudden frenzy, but it didn't surprise her much. He was always freaking out about stupid things. "Senpai-!" She watched his face heat up, and then screw up when the wave of lightheadedness hit him. She pinned him back down on the bed, pulling covers back over him. "Really, just lay down! You'll end up sicker if you keep thrashing around like that."

She put a hand on his forehead, and he froze all together, unable to move. Her flesh on his. No clothes in their way. Haruhi sighed, letting brown bangs fall over one of her eyes as she hung her head. "Your fever feels worse than before," she said. Tamaki, blushing furiously, knew better. She began stacking up her books. She would be forced to venture back out into the house to get ice and tell them Tamaki had woken up. But just as she moved to stand, a hand grabbed her wrist and stopped her. The grip was tight, sweaty and a little shaky.

She looked at him.

No one said anything.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Uh… Senpai?"

He swallowed, wincing a little at the feeling. "Yeah?"

"You… want to let me go get you some ice?"

Naturally, the appropriate responses would have been, 'Yes, Haruhi! Thank you.' But Tamaki couldn't say that for some reason. He couldn't bring himself to let go of her. Usually, he convinced himself that these types of feelings spurned from a father's well-spring of love; that excuse was wearing thin, was stretching beyond its scope. How many more times could he tell that to himself, and believe it? The alternative (the truth he feared) would bring chaos to the club, so… he ignored it.

He let go. "Yeah," he said, voice cracking. He cleared his throat, cringing again. "Sorry."

There was a tense moment when both of them were silent, not looking at each other. Perhaps they were thinking, wondering what the other was thinking about. It wasn't until Tamaki started coughing (as quietly as he could manage) into his fist that Haruhi went for the door.

"I'll be right back," she said, looking over her shoulder at him. "Just lie down and try and relax, all right?"

Then she was gone.

All eyes were on the other side. Ranka, the twins and Kyouya glazed her with their stares. They were all sipping tea, lounging around the table. It was almost peaceful, and Haruhi had to breathe a small sigh of relief in the happiness that no one had broken anything-… then she blinked, cutting her eyes. Well, the only one who really BREAKS anything was sick in her room, so… that made sense. She perked up when Kaoru spoke.

"So," he said, swirling tea in his cup. "Is he-?"

"Awake?" she asked, crossing the room to the fridge. "Yes, he is. But don't-"

Too late. The twins were up on their feet, in the room and badgering Tamaki before she could even get out a second word. "Hey!" Haruhi struggled to grab the ice from the freezer and stumble after them at the same time. "You guys!"

Kyouya's hands were suddenly at her aid, keeping the bowl of ice she was holding steady. He was smiling, seemed moderately happy. "Let them have their fun. Tamaki can take it." They both watched each other a moment before Haruhi returned his smile. He was right. Tamaki could most definitely take it.

"What have you guys been doing out here?" she asked while sitting the bowl back in the fridge for a moment. While the twins were with him, no sense in hurrying back. "As anyone hungry? I can make lunch or something."

"No, we're fine," Kyouya waved a hand at her offerings. "We'll just go out for lunch."

"What about Tamaki?"

"We'll bring you back something."

She stared at him, feeling that butterfly sensation come back to her stomach. "You guys would leave me here… _alone_, with him?"

The dark haired Ootori reflected her look of surprise, frowning slightly. "Well, yes." He smiled a little, as if out of amusement. "Is that a problem?"

"No!" She answered to quickly, and she knew it. What was wrong with her today? Maybe she was coming down with something too. Her stomach was all knotted up, after all. "No, no problem. He'll just sleep." She looked away from him deliberately. Kyouya didn't press it, but she was still frustrated. He had that grin on his face. He was just as devious as those twins, when he wanted to be. Ootori Kyouya was just fantastically less obvious.

"You're right. He'll probably just sleep," he said, with a sort of finality. Brushing past her, he opened her fridge and pulled out a carton of 2 percent milk. She stared at him, cheeks a little pink. One hand went to his hip. "Hope you don't mind. It's Tamaki's favorite. It might cheer him up."

Haruhi stared at the carton. Milk. Tamaki liked milk. Made sense. He was always such a child. So naïve. So impulsive, sometimes. When she didn't say anything, Kyouya leaned in toward her.

"Haruhi?"

She snapped out of it. "What?"

He held up the milk in front of her face. "Do you mind?"

She blinked at him, and then it all registered. "Oh! No, no! Use it, I never drink it."

Kyouya's smile faded back onto his face, and Haruhi wilted at the sight of it. He was cooking up something, in that evil mind of his. "Thank you, Haruhi."


	4. It Deepens

**A.N: Sorry it took so long to update! Life is super busy, for some reason XD. Hope this is a nice chappie for those who patiently waited! Thank you 3!**

Hikaru had a palm over his face, shaking his head. "Boss, you're not dying."

"Yes!" Tamaki hugged Haruhi's pillow to his face, burying his head there. His voice was muffled when he spoke again. Hikaru leaned towards him.

"What? I can't understand you."

Tamaki wrenched his face from the soft mass, looking whiny. "I said, I _am_ dying! My head hurts, my chest hurts, my nose is running! It's disgusting, and what's worse, Haruhi has to _see_ it all!"

Kaoru, who was spinning in Haruhi's desk chair, rested his arms along the back support. "So rubbing your germs in her pillow is a good idea?"

Tamaki "eeped" and through the pillow from his general area, then looked livid when Hikaru snatched it up. "What are you doing?"

Hikaru, like Tamaki did earlier, pushed his face into the heart of Haruhi's pillow, taking a deep breath through the nose. Both boys watched him until he pulled it back, looking satisfied. There was a mischievous look to his face, but it was decidedly more predatory than normal.

"Mmmm," he purred, grinning like a cat at Tamaki's pale, twitching face. "I can smell Haruhi's shampoo."

Tamaki uttered a pained noise from the back of his throat, beginning to reach pitifully for it. Hikaru dangled the pillow out of his reach.

"Oh, no no no. You didn't want it, remember?" He pressed his face into it again, while Tamaki was caught between intense jealousy and rage at the indecency. "Strawberry-flavor."

"Nuh-uh!" Tamaki leapt for it, but Hikaru dodged, standing up and tossing the pillow to his brother. The Prince, on hands and knees, looked over his shoulder. "That's not fair!"

Kaoru didn't smell it like his brother did, but he did toss it up and down. "Strawberry? I didn't peg her for that kind of flavor. I was thinking more like a citrus-smell. Maybe coconut."

"Coconut?" Hikaru snorted. "Too tropical for our uptight little he-she."

"Stop talking about it! It's private!" Tamaki yelled, but his voice broke and he lowered his head, starting to cough. Both twins chorused a rebuttal.

"Private?" they said. Hikaru snatched the pillow from Kaoru, pointing at it.

"Boss, who are you to set the rules? This is Haruhi's pillow, not yours."

"You know," Kaoru said, spinning in the chair again. "You really have to let go of this whole, "I'm-Haruhi's-Daddy" thing, boss. It's pretty freaky."

"Shut up!" Tamaki said, moving to stand. "I'm her father, and there's nothing you can-…can-…" He started to sway, eyes fogging over. His hand groped for something to hang on to, but he couldn't find anything in reach. Hikaru dropped the pillow and dove forward, grabbing Tamaki by the arms. The Suoh went down anyway, and his rescuer went down with him. The red-head grunted when he hit the ground, on top of Tamaki. He pushed up, hands on either side of the boy's head. The Prince was breathing, of course, but he had lost consciousness again.

"Damn it!" Hikaru scrambled back from him, and Kaoru dropped next to Tamaki, checking his fever. When no one said anything, Hikaru's temper flared. "Well? What's wrong with him?"

"He's sick, Hikaru." Kaoru muttered, pulling Tamaki back onto Haruhi's bed. "That's what's wrong." Kaoru kept the covers back from Tamaki, for fear of incubating his fever. He was sweaty, skin pale, nose chapped and pink, body weak. Kaoru rubbed a hand over his face. "We have to make him admit it."

"Admit _what?_" Hikaru snapped. The whole business of Tamaki passing out felt like his fault. He didn't want to be blamed for that; he didn't want to be responsible for hurting Tamaki. What if next time, he didn't wake back up? Or he hit his head on something? It would be all Hikaru's fault. Kaoru could see his brother's mind working, and he snapped a finger in front of his face.

"Hey, cut it out."

Hikaru grabbed Kaoru's wrist. "Cut _what_ out?" His teeth were gritted. Kaoru sighed quietly, patience eternal, calm.

"It's not your fault. So stop trying to pretend that it is."

The brothers, the twins, just glared at one another. No talking needed it. Neither one of them moved, or spoke, or even took a deep breath until Tamaki stirred against the floor, groaning. Hikaru's voice dropped to a whisper.

"Admit what?"

Kaoru's golden eyes went heavy, almost grave. He narrowed them. "Admit that he's in love with Haruhi."

A moment later when the said Haruhi came back in with the bowl of ice, followed by a smug-looking Kyouya holding a glass of ice-cold milk, found a clumsily sprawled, half-conscious Tamaki on the floor with a pair sheepish twins lounging around him, they both froze in the doorway. It was silent for about one second before Haruhi felt a wave of chilly aggravation sweep over Kyouya.

His fist tightened around the glass, eyes cold. "What happened?"

The boys glanced at each other, and it was Hikaru who spoke off-handedly, shrugging a shoulder. "We got onto the Daddy-issue and he freaked out," he said, deliberately not meeting Kyouya's eye. "Pretty routine."

Haruhi, after a moment of collection, got down on her knees with the ice and slowly, almost shyly, laid the back of her hand against his forehead. He really was burning up. It wasn't fatal, of course, but getting him excited certainly exacerbated his condition. She started folding ice into a wash cloth. "See? I told you guys you'd make him worse."

Kyouya snarled at them under his breath, tight-lipped. "The 'Daddy-issue' is something we decided to address later, if at all. _Leave it_."

Kaoru, before his brother could throw back a snide comment, whispered to them both. "We can't," he said, eyes flickering to the panting Tamaki, "just leave it. It's probably what made him sick in the first place. He needs to face it head on."

"Maybe so, but not now," Kyouya muttered. He knew Kaoru was right. He was dead on. Tamaki's constant stress and anguish over his conflicting feelings for Haruhi were the source of most of his depressive and often self-destructive moods, as rare as they were. Due to the Suoh family's filial issues, Tamaki didn't trust himself to have love in fear it would destroy everything he had cultivated. With support, he could stare that phobia down, grind it into dust. But now was just not the right time.

Hikaru flung a snarky remark into the discussion. "Why are we even talking about it? He's an idiot for being so confused about something like this. He should deal with his own problems."

Kaoru had to hold in a derisive laugh. It was Hikaru, his identical kin, his live mirror, who suffered from the same idiocy. Hikaru too, the oblivious moron, felt things for Haruhi. But the nimrod hung onto their tiny, sheltered little world too tightly to see it.

They were all distracted when Tamaki started coming around again. He was bleary, only half-aware. Passing out multiple times could really take a toll on one's alertness. Haruhi held the ice in place on his forehead as he stirred, eyes searching her face until he could finally see her, acknowledge she was there. A fresh blush mantled his cheeks as he struggled to find the words, but she just cut him off.

"You really need to stop passing out, Senpai." She gave him a funny smile. "It can't be good for your brain."

And the boys watched, fairly disappointed as well as stunned that Tamaki's enormous crush was still going unnoticed by Haruhi. After all this time, after everything that had happened, one would think the two of them would be more in tune with each other's—as well as their own—feelings. Kyouya only sighed, and came to sit next to Tamaki, who was now propped up by his elbow. He handed him his milk.

"Here," he said. Tamaki gave him the infamous "idiot face" that everyone knew so well and respected for it's subtle power, and Kyouya could only shake his head at him, sitting back on the floor, hands pressing to the floor behind him. "We're going out to lunch. Haruhi's going to make you soup."

He might as well have said that Haruhi was going to create perpetual world peace. Tamaki's face, while gleaming with a red tint, became at once completely dreamy as he apparently fantasized about Haruhi's glorious soup. Everyone stared at him, waiting for any sort of reply. When he didn't give them one, Haruhi just hung her head.

"Well, he's practically delirious, so being alone with him won't be so bad, I guess," she said. Hikaru reached over and rubbed her hair with a tough, nearly affectionate tousle.

"Aw, little Haruhi the maid, cooking for her daddy. You really do fit the role of the commoner," he said. His tone approached a cadence of almost reverent awe, a joking fondness, or perhaps mild jealousy. It was a difficult comment to dissect, so Haruhi just cocked an eyebrow and flashed him a weird look. Kaoru stared at his twin brother.

Kyouya, detecting that the mood might soon breech "awkward," stood up and started ushering the twins out. "We'll be back, Haruhi," he said, hands in his pockets as he watched Kaoru drag Hikaru's arm, grinning. "Be good." He offered her a smirk that made Haruhi bristle up, skin suddenly cold. What did he mean by _that?_ Her gaze floated momentarily to Tamaki, who was still musing about something.

Despite herself, she smiled a little. That face he had whenever he was thinking about something stupid always looked cute. She didn't really notice when Kyouya and the twins left, nor when her father was forced along with them. She didn't even realize they were alone until a harsh noise startled her thoughts.

"HEH-Esskchiii!"

She blinked, jumping a little, standing in her room and still holding the cool cloth in her hands. She glanced down at Tamaki, who was rubbing his nose with the knuckle of his wrist. Afterward he pushed his hair back, only for it to fall back right over his blue eyes. Even with a cold he could still look gorgeous. Significantly more gross, but still handsome.

Haruhi knelt beside him, and their eyes met. No one said anything. The silence strained; her hands clenched the fabric. Tamaki's jaw clenched, and he ventured to speak, but didn't. Now there was no distraction. There was no one else to talk to.

They had no other option than to just be with each other, for almost the very first time.

Tamaki, secretly, had always wanted this. He loathed the twins for their advantage. They had at least 30 percent more time with Haruhi than he did, because they were all in the same class. Countless times he would lapse into waking dreams about her, listen to her sweet voice call out his name; serving him food, running to him on a warm beach, calling him 'naughty' or 'cute.' Once or twice he thought about her without a shirt, or without pants. He saw her in dresses, in bathing suits, in underwear and then nothing at all, and the progression of perversion made him feel like a sicko. He was just being a boy, listening to his hormones, but he was also Haruhi's father. He was her figure of authority, the one she came to when she needed help or guidance. He was supposed to be the responsible one, the dependable one.

No one could depend on him for anything, it felt like.

So now, laying here on her floor, in her room, in her house all alone with her, _only her_, he feared. He feared of what might happen, what stupid things he could say or do. What she could think of him in the short hour or so they would have alone for the first and maybe last time. She whetted the cloth in the bowl and held it to his head, chilling him down and heating him up all at once. Her fingers were so close. Her supple arms. Things he didn't get to see at school. He swallowed, throat tight. He coughed a little, and she gave him a look of (perhaps forced) sympathy.

He felt very exposed all of a sudden, very closed up. He wanted to get out, but he wanted to stay. He wanted to reach up and touch her hair, and he wanted to bite himself for doing so. He wanted to do so many things with her, so many things _to_ her, it made his heart ache. His head hurt. His chest burn. His nose itch. He reached up and scrubbed at it with the cuff of his sleeve, trying to be both discreet and polite. She got him a tissue anyway.

"Here," she offered. He wondered how disgusted she was with him. This was, after all, probably the worst time to be alone with her. He would rather be drunk than be sick in front of her. He took it silently, and she didn't say anything back to him. He could feel the tickle in his nose seizing up, snatching hold of him. His face contorted, breath caught, but the sneeze wouldn't move after that. He hated this most of all, how stupid he looked when he did this. He always did this, almost every time. It was just a blessing he didn't have allergies, or get sick as often as most people. Each sneeze was always a ridiculous battle, and people would often just sit there and watch him fight it. People would laugh, cringe or just stare on in curiosity, like Haruhi was doing now. He heaved a breath through his nose, hoping to hurry it along, but that only made his eyes water, breath waver. He just sat there, holding the tissue over his face, humiliated. It took so damn long, every time. Tamaki hoped that after a few minutes Haruhi would look away, but she didn't. Haruhi just sat there, holding the cool cloth to his head, watching his expression twist. Another long stretch of silence passed, before she spoke again.

"Do you want me to do the perfume trick again?"

Tamaki, voice muffled and hoarse behind the tissue, blinked at her. "You're… what?"

Haruhi raised her eyebrows, remembering that Tamaki had been asleep when she had done it the first time. He wouldn't know what she was talking about. Nevertheless, seeing him continue to struggle was enough of an answer. She reached for him, taking his wrist and pulling down his hands, or at least trying to. He resisted her.

"Haruhi, what are you doing? You don't want to catch Daddy's cold, do you?" he asked, almost rhetorically, in that whiney, authoritative voice he would always use with her. She was getting sick of that voice. It got annoying so quickly.

"Senpai, just trust me. Otherwise you'll be making that face all day." She gestured to his twitching features, ready to clench for the sneeze waiting just beyond his reach. His grip slackened slightly, face heating up in embarrassment, and before he could do anything else Haruhi pressed the soft underside of her wrist against his nostrils. It still reeked of strong perfume, and the sensation of the odor threw Tamaki into an immediate fit. Haruhi was ready though. Haruhi was prepared. She pressed about seven tissues over his face.

"HEH-EESKCHI! Heh-sschii! Esschii!" It went on and on, each one shaking his body as his eyes fought to come open. He scrunched up his body as each sneeze passed through him, as if trying to fend off the seizure somehow. By now, Haruhi forced herself to get past the disgusting aspect of a sick Tamaki. He was ill and it was gross, but the only thing either one of them could do was ride it out.

Tamaki, on the other hand, was not so forgiving of his repulsiveness. At the instant the fit ended, his nose relented and behaved itself, he could do nothing but sit in complete and utter disbelief at himself. Not only that, but he was mortified by his lack of decorum. How could he have just allowed Haruhi, his underclassman, to hold tissues to his face as he sneezed about a million times? He was contagious, for crying out loud! He wanted to die. That's exactly what he wanted to do. He couldn't do it on Haruhi's floor, though. He would have to escape outside first, and then fling himself in front of traffic…

And yet…

A piece of him liked it. Liked it very much. Liked being babied and coddled by Haruhi, who was at times aloof and callous, but had a good heart and sound mind. She was cold to him sometimes, but she seemed to care for him. He hoped she did. Here she was wiping his nose for him, and she was even disguising her obvious loathing to the entire situation. A small, hidden piece of Tamaki wanted to lay in her room all day, curled up and warm, and have her stroke his hair, or recline next to him and smile, touch his face. His throat went dry at the thought. Haruhi interrupted his thoughts.

"Do you…always sneeze like that, Senpai?" she asked him in that practical voice. She was disposing of the tissues he soiled, looking over her shoulder from small, whicker garbage bin.

Tamaki, his natural need to be charming (even with a stuffy nose) taking over, tried to smile at her. "Unfortunately, yes," he said, sniffling even as he said it. He didn't want her to know what he was thinking, and she was so far from him now, it was easy to think straight. It wasn't long before she was back by his side.

Haruhi watched him and, without thinking, flattened some of his hair that was sticking up. She spoke as she did so. "That's weird," she said, petting his head to try and get the sprig of hair to stay flat. "It seems like a battle every time."

Tamaki could feel the hand on his head. Her small, delicate little hand. They were alone in this house, alone together. There was no one to come interrupt, no one to come poke fun at him, or accuse him of something like foul play. There was no one to steal Haruhi away; not this time. One of his fists clenched.

"It is."

Haruhi pulled back, sensing tension in the air for the first time. She mistook it for embarrassment. She felt the need to say something to make him feel better about his sneezing habits. Her stomach started to feel funny at the first thought that surfaced in her mind. She decided to say it anyway. She didn't meet his eyes. She turned away as she spoke, busying herself with the ice-bowl.

"You know, Senpai," she said, moving the rag around, cheeks fading pink. "It's… sort of cute."


	5. It Gets Discussed

**A.N: It's such a shamfeully short chapter T_T! I felt bad for not updating for so long! Life has been all up in my way XD. I promise the next one will be fluffy satisfaction! :DD!**

**EDIT: ...XDD.. I'm so stupid LOL. I've had to edit this thing three times to correct the weather XD! I forgot it was raining LOLOL**

Kaoru, his back to the trunk of a tree in Haruhi's yard amongst the drizzling drops of rain, felt like a stalker.

It wasn't so much the time of day or the place that made him feel that way, but the things he and the others were spying on. Hikaru, the genius that he was, had proposed the idea to Ranka that they make it sound as if they were going to lunch, and then bury themselves in the bushes outside to observe Haruhi and Tamaki alone. Ranka rejoiced at the idea. He certainly didn't want to leave his baby girl alone with such an unsuitable ruffian. No sir.

So that's what they did.

Hikaru and Ranka crouched in the soggy shrubs under the window, holding up little sprigs of green-life to try and mask themselves (as well as keep dry from the soft rain), watching the action in the bedroom intently. Kyouya lounged nearby, typing on his computer, seemingly indifferent as he always ways. Kaoru had to wonder what he did on that computer all day. It seemed impossible for him to find constant enjoyment in it. As Hikaru and Ranka made faces at the display in front of them, Kaoru moved closer to Kyouya, sitting down next to him.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Kyouya didn't even look up from his work.

"The bimonthly budget analysis," he answered automatically, unemotionally. Kaoru waited for anything else, any other comment that might spark conversation, but there was none. Typical Kyouya.

Kaoru turned his attention to Hikaru, who had his sweating palms against the glass window pain, his eyes huge, his face incredulous. Ranka held a similar expression, though it was more reminiscent of one of Tamaki's "OMG" expressions.

"I can't believe she's _wiping his nose for him!_" Hikaru whisper-shouted, gritting his teeth. He felt s strong sense of injustice, of rage, but couldn't tell what it was. Anyone else would call it jealousy, but Hikaru was blind to it. Ranka didn't say anything, watching the action intently. His little girl was acting so strange. Her eyes were so distant. What could she be thinking?

Kaoru's voice exited his throat without him really realizing it. "I think she likes him, senpai."

"As do I," Kyouya replied, still not looking up from his screen. He let his next words out on a sigh. "It all depends on Tamaki, now."

"Why's that?" Kaoru turned his head to look at the Ootori. He had known Tamaki since the moment the blonde moved here. He had known that boy a long time. Kyouya knew him best. He acted like so many things for Tamaki. A father, a brother, a joking spouse even. If anyone knew what was going on with Tamaki, it would be Kyouya.

Yet, there were times when Kyouya didn't know. He didn't know Tamaki planned to leave the host club due to guilt. He didn't know how the King's plans could add up into such great enterprises for the club. He didn't understand Tamaki's reasoning, at times.

"Because," Kyouya said, glasses flashing as a passing car window reflected the sun against them. "Haruhi is too dense to recognize it herself. Tamaki knows he feels love. He just mistakenly believes it is paternal affection."

Kaoru blinked, thinking about this. All very true. "But how will he ever make that leap? He won't connect it. He's just as dense as Haruhi, senpai."

Kyouya only smiled, slowly reaching up and closing the lid of his lap top. He adjusted his glasses with the tip of his finger. "Perhaps," he said, leaning back. "Perhaps he is. But he'll have to figure it out eventually." He nodded towards the window where the other two religiously sat, both fuming at the display inside. "Give him enough time alone with Haruhi. I'm sure he'll figure it out."

Kaoru looked at the window, squinted at it, watching Haruhi smile curiously from beyond the glass. She rubbed at Tamaki's head with the cloth, tilting her head, looking flirtatious from afar. Tamaki's flush only deepened. Kaoru rubbed the back of his neck.

"What if Haruhi figures it out first?"

Kyouya glanced over, gaze finding the girl. He stared at her for what seemed a long time. Hikaru and Ranka continued to complain. The rain pittered along the roof. Cars passed with the sound of rushing wind. The dark-haired Ootori could only smile, looking down as he closed his eyes.

"Then we'll pray Tamaki doesn't ruin it, somehow."


	6. It Stretches

**A.N: You've all been SOOOOO patient with me! Thank you thank you thank you :D. I love all my kind reviewers and those who have put me on "alert." I hope this is a nice, happy chapter for you all :D. Let me know if I made any mistakes, or go out of character! ^^**

Tamaki looked at his hands, which were balled into fists. His face felt hot. It felt like it wasn't happening; like a dream world. He couldn't bring himself to look at her.

"What," he paused, clearing his throat, "did you say?"

Haruhi, who had been partially oblivious to all the earlier implications, now felt a little odd as well. She had only said what was on her mind, after all, and mostly it was just to help ease out his embarrassment. _Cute, senpai. Cute. _It only seemed to make things worse.

"I only-.." Haruhi, on her knees by his side, stared down at him as her voice trailed off. His face-… she never noticed how flawless it was. Of course, it wasn't so good-looking now due to a decline in his health, but Tamaki could never be _ugly_. She was fairly sure of that. Her stomach felt funny again; her hands twitched. Why was she thinking about him so hard all of a sudden? Silly. She dumped the cloth back in the bowl, beginning to stand.

"Nothing, senpai," she said. Her voice was quiet, but didn't waver. "I'm going to start your soup."

Haruhi's decisions, whenever she made them, were usually thoughtless and final. He remembered that one evening on the beach, watching her get thrown from that rock only to be swallowed by the sea. He ripped her a new one on the beach, picked a fight with her… but that was only because he cared. It was times like those that he really believed he held paternal affection for her. Why else would he worry so much? As she walked towards the door, he suddenly sat up. His head swum, just a little, but he was careful not to let it show on his face.

"I'll come," he said. Haruhi only sighed, like a parent with a troublesome toddler would sigh, and turned her head to meet his gaze.

"Senpai, you've already passed out twice now. One more time, and you might start losing brain cells. You need to hang on to the precious few you _do_ have." She smiled a little at her teasing, even though she didn't want to. She didn't want to smile at him anymore. It was becoming too easy.

Tamaki's face melted into an injured, sulky one, and Haruhi could see that within a few minutes he would be pouting in a corner. She tried to redeem herself.

"I was just kidding, senpai," she said, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. She really would have to cut it soon, wouldn't she? It was getting long. "Don't take things so seriously."

"I can't have my daughter thinking badly of me," he said in a weak voice, still hurt. A sense of failure radiated from him. "Have I failed you as a father, Haruhi?"

Here is was again. That stupid notion that she didn't really care about until, maybe, now. He was always pretending to be her dad. Why was he so attracted to that? Why did he do it? She chalked it up to his 'being an idiot,' or maybe because he wanted to welcome her in the Club as the newest addition somehow. That phase had passed, and even if he _was_ still an idiot, what was the point of it?

"Senpai," she said, finding herself sighing again. "You're not my dad, okay? Stop pretending things like that."

If Tamaki wasn't hurt before, he certainly felt hurt now. Haruhi might as well have stabbed him through with a katana. It stung his chest, settled and burned inside him. _Stop pretending things like that._ It wasn't pretend. It felt so real, after all. Tamaki loved Haruhi. He knew that. The only love he could trust himself to have was that of a father. He wasn't capable of a successful relationship otherwise, at least in his eyes. She asked him all the time to just leave her alone, but that's what daughters did, right? They were supposed to be moody and mean to their parents. But this was like saying she didn't want a dad anymore, like she thought this was all just fake—a game. Tamaki was exhausted and ill, and also prone to being overdramatic, so it was easy for this to feel like the end of the world to him.

Haruhi watched her senpai, and her heart went out to him, mostly because it looked like he might cry. While she found it ridiculous that he wanted to so badly to be her father, she certainly didn't need him hysterically crying while ill in her bedroom. His fever was all ready pretty high. Working himself up would do no good. With a near-silent groan under her breath, she walked over to him, crouching down to his level, trying to use a patient tone with him.

"Just because I don't like you pretending to be my father," she said, offering a hand to him, "doesn't mean I don't like you at all, senpai." A small relief spread over her as she noticed his slight change in demeanor. He stared at her with big blue eyes. He was such a child.

"R-Really?" He sniffled, was about to wipe his nose on his arm, then thought about how disgusting and rude that was and started fishing around for a tissue. Haruhi reached back behind her, plucked one from the box, and handed it to him.

"Sure," she said, shrugging a little. "I mean, you're my friend."

_Friend_. Had Haruhi ever called him her "friend" before? No. He couldn't recall. Maybe it was just his fever-addled state that made it so difficult to remember, but then again, if she ever called him that before, he wouldn't have forgotten, would he? No. Probably not. Haruhi, now looking a tad exasperated, started to stand. So did Tamaki. She stared at him, and he grabbed the blanket he had been using, draping it around his shoulders.

"I want to see how a commoner makes soup," he said in his own defense. In truth, the greater truth, he just wanted to be with her. He had to make do with the valuable time he actually had with her, while they were alone together. Another half-hour, and those ridiculous twins would be back. Haruhi wasn't swayed.

"Senpai, I really don't think you should-"

It happened. A distant, rumbling noise emanating from outside. Haruhi bristled. Thunder. The rain, during their conversation, had gotten steadily harder, more insistent. Tamaki eyes, brimming with concern, stared at the girl. She was getting shaky, twitchy. She was eager to find a small space to curl up into. Tamaki reached and took her hand, working his fingers into the grooves of her own.

"Let's go talk in the kitchen," he said, smiling at her. He sniffled, glancing up at the ceiling, listening to the rain. "It will pass, don't worry."

Haruhi made no move to pull away, nor did she say anything. At most, she uttered a small, whimpering sound. The waiting for the thunder seemed to be the worst for her. She anticipated the noise, the flash, before it happened, so when it actually came it was all the more frightening.

Within moments they were in the kitchen together. She was fishing through the cabinet, and shook free of Tamaki's hand to better her ability to search. The Suoh boy resisted the urge to pout, and also the urge to kick himself. His chest ached. Holding her hand, so delicate and warm in his own, had been wonderful. So special. He sniffled again, this time with a violent impatience. He had to sneeze again. Damn it.

Haruhi's hands shook as she took the metallic can from the shelf, clenching it. She could see her yard from the dim kitchen window. The grass, the dark sky, the shrubs. The street was empty, it seemed. Abandoned. She wondered briefly how the other boys were doing out there, in that weather. Hopefully they were sitting inside a fancy restaurant at a table by now. Placing the can on the counter with a small "clink" noise, she opened a drawer and grabbed the can opener. She cast a sidelong glance at Tamaki, and smirked just a little at his expression. He was at it again, was he? His eyes were half-open, dazed, staring out the window. His lips were barely parted, just barely, exposing the gentle white slivers of his front row teeth. She clamped the can opener into the Noodle Soup top, and started cranking.

"Have to sneeze again, senpai?" she asked, smiling down at the jagged edges of the can top, watching the circle of metal rise as she moved around its circumference. Tamaki huffed a soft breath through his nose, almost like a sigh. His breath caught, then relaxed.

"Yuh-… yes," he said, speech a little inhibited by the sensation. Haruhi shook her head, glancing over her shoulder at him. He was hopeless, wasn't he? So predictable sometimes. As soon as the lid popped off, she set down her tools and went to him, holding her wrist out again, for him to smell. Haruhi didn't read much into things. Haruhi was obtuse. She normally didn't detect awkwardness, or embarrassment, in most situations.

Tamaki felt awkward _and_ embarrassed. He hated this. The one time they actually get to bond, and he's sick as a dog. Not only that, but he kept getting foul thoughts; flash-images of a Haruhi more forward and liberal than the real Haruhi. The usual Haruhi of his dreams was sweet, innocent and flirtacious. This new dream Haruhi, the one he thought of now, wanted to hug him and kiss him, lay next to him, and whisper things to him. He attributed the change to his fever. Why did he keep thinking of things like that?

He backed away a little from Haruhi's soft, supple skin as she offered it to him. His timidity surprised her, and she half-smiled at him.

"Senpai, I already told you that you don't have to be embarrassed," she said, reaching up slip a hand at the back of his neck to hold his head still. "Now just stand still."

Her hand was cool and silky against his hot neck. An uttered noise escaped his throat at the contact. His chest clenched. Did she _realize_ what she was doing to him? He-… he had to get away from her. If they kept this up, it would be impossible to repress his boyish urges. He never felt this way about anyone. He wanted to call it paternal love. He wanted to call it the love of a father. He kept forcing himself to think that, to convince himself of that. But his resistance wore thin. Tamaki's veil was ripping away. She pressed her skin underneath his nose, eyes devoid of anything but a tolerant acceptance. Haruhi didn't feel anything for him, he knew that.

Sometimes, he just pretended she did. Hoped she did. Wished for it.

"Haru-…hiieehhh," he tried to speak her name, but the perfume was quite effective. Haruhi only giggled, shook her head at him, turning her back to grab a few tissues from an end table nearby.

"Senpai, maybe you should incorporate this into your 'Prince' act," she said, watching him struggle with a keen eye. "It really is cute. I think the girls would like it."

Tamaki's eyes, which up until that point had been slowly closing, fluttering back open. He held his breath, fighting the growing need to expel whatever plagued his nose. He needed to settle something with her. He needed an answer.

"Haruhi," he said, voice breathy. He held the tissues against his face, talking from behind them, in case he sneezed suddenly.

Haruhi was already busying herself with the soup, heating up the stove as she placed a pan on a burner. "Hm?"

"Do you think the girls would like it," he asked, having to pause to swallow, "or _you_ would like it?"


	7. It Gets Very Complicated

**A.N: This one came a little faster than the last, I think XD. I hope this doesn't get too dramatic, or anything. Let me know if I have any grammatical errors, and if you liked it, hated it, tell me in a review :D! Hope you all enjoy ^^!**

Haruhi, at first, didn't understand the question. What did he mean by that? It was more important what the girls wanted, always more important. What _she_ wanted didn't matter much. At least, not in the scope of the club. To Tamaki personally, maybe her wants mattered, but certainly not for the Host Club business.

"What does it matter, what I like?" she asked, stirring the soup, watching the steam slowly rise and wisp into the cooler air. "It's for the club, not me."

"But," Tamaki started, and then a gasp caught in his throat. He pinned the tissues over his face, waited, then glared cross-eyed at his nose when it refused to do anything else. It was driving him crazy. He continued with what he was saying, though his voice was warbled.

"But, _would_ you like it? I mean, you said it was cute-…"

"Yeah, but only because the other girls would like it. I called it cute because it's practical." It was a terrible defense, but her face was heating up, her stomach feeling funny again. Maybe she was coming down with something. Maybe she caught it from Tamaki. He hadn't said anything in return to her. She hoped he wasn't sulking. Then she detected the soft hitches in his breath. No, not sulking. Just distracted. She couldn't suppress a smile.

"Senpai," she said, not looking over her shoulder. "Does your stomach hurt?"

He didn't say anything, so she was forced to look over at him. She found him shaking his head, eyes closed, both hands to his nose and mouth, still holding that tissue she gave him a while ago. She almost laughed.

"Honestly, senpai," Haruhi started towards him, wondering if she needed to spray him with perfume directly in order to relieve his torture. "You're just hopeless."

She reached out for his arm, watching his face, when he verged on it suddenly.

"HEH-ESSSKCHIIIIEE-AH!"

BOOM!

The thunder and Tamaki's sneeze reverberated through the room simultaneously, and Haruhi screamed in reflex. Before he knew it, the Suoh boy found himself laying on the floor, Haruhi on top of him, her arms around his neck, her head buried in his chest. She whimpered slightly, as the combined noises had resulted in quite a loud explosion. The storm sounded suddenly as if it were right over the house. Tamaki felt a nosebleed coming on, but then amended that to another sneeze as he recognized the rising pressure in his sinuses. He fumbled for a minute, panting, hand near his face (the other being wrapped around Haruhi's back, to try and comfort her). He panicked. He didn't want to sneeze on her, but with their position, there was little he could do. So, he leaned up a little, turning his head away from her, and sneezed off to the side. Again, and again, and again.

"HEH-ESKCHI! EESSKCHI! SKCHII! HEHKCHI!"

They came in a barrage, with hardly time for him to snag a breath in between. But damn, did it feel good to finally get them all out. Either he was getting sicker, time with Haruhi was becoming easier, because he couldn't muster enough energy to scold himself for being so disgusting. Yes, it was repulsive, but what could he really do? He felt pretty lousy, and Haruhi seemed to be enjoying his company more now than she ever had, for whatever reason.

"B-Bless you, senpai," Haruhi mumbled, face still against him. She shuddered slightly from the fright. She could hear his breathing, the slight wheeze in it. His body felt warm, probably from the fever. His arm was around her, his body was beneath her-… she felt safe, lying there. She liked it.

Tamaki liked it too, but he was able to gather his bearings faster than she was. He sat up, bracing his palm against the floor while holding her to him. He sniffled powerfully, trying to keep his nose from running.

"Come on, up we go," he said, standing. He swayed slightly, slightly unsteady, but Haruhi was still a little too shaken to notice. Her weight moved with him, so the Prince ended up leaning heavily against a wall to keep them both from falling back down. His whole head felt like it was tingling. The kitchen looked wavy. He held tightly to her, rubbing his thumb on her back as another crack of thunder struck nearby. She clutched to him.

"It's okay," he said, closing his eyes. "I'm here. You're not alone, Haruhi."

His voice sounded so calm. She breathed it in, that quiet calm he was giving her, and held all the tighter to him. He was an idiot, this boy. He was by no means a rocket-scientist, and couldn't even understand his most primal feelings, but he had a heart. He had a strong sense of kindness. He was a good person, and he cared about her. And she-… perhaps she cared about him, too. All this time, the many long days they had spent together—perhaps he had wormed his way into her affections, if only just a little.

Thunder rolled again, and she squeaked. His hand continued to rub her back. He consoled her. She kept her eyes closed. She didn't want to open them. It was too nice, in the dark place with Tamaki's voice and the humble fortress of his arms. What any girl wouldn't give to be her. And, for the very first time, she felt a wellspring of pride trickle inside her. What _any girl wouldn't give to be her_. She had Tamaki with her, alone, truly wanting to be with her-… or-?

Her eyes opened.

Was it an act? Suoh Tamaki could make any girl believe she was a princess, so was this just another show? Was he just working his charm, watching her play along? She blinked, then closed her eyes again. She smiled. No. Tamaki wasn't conniving enough to do something like that. He was too blunt, too genuine. He never lied to those girls. He never told them things that weren't true. He really believed everything he was saying to them. Tamaki wasn't a liar.

Haruhi wasn't aware of how long they remained like that. She kept her eyes closed, waiting for the storm to pass, listening to Tamaki breathe and occasionally sneeze. Her thoughts drifted from homework to exit exams to Tamaki to the club to perhaps maybe a dress she might want to wear for him, just once, since he liked her in those kinds of things-… it went on, in her mind, for hours it seemed. All at once, she realized that the pounding rain had ceased to pound, now only a drizzle on the roof. She pushed back from Tamaki a little, to glance around, when she noticed something very, very wrong.

They were on the floor. Tamaki wasn't awake.

She automatically pasted a hand to his forehead, and then jerked back. He was on fire.

Her mouth opened to say something, but she couldn't speak. Who would she speak to? Everyone was gone. Just her and Tamaki, and Tamaki had a dangerously high fever.

Why hadn't he said anything? She wanted to shake him by the shoulders, yell at him. _Why didn't you say anything?_ If he felt another collapse coming on, he could have told her, could have asked her to let him lie down in her room-… she would have let him, maybe would have even come with him. She backed away from him. What was she supposed to do?

"Ice," she said to herself. "Ice, Haruhi, ice." She hurried to the fridge, jerked out the ice box, and then paused. What would she do with it? Should she put him in the tub, and fill it to cool him down? Should she pour the ice on him and hope it does something? She was normally so collected in times like these, but this was stringing her nerves out. Seeing him just laying there, helpless and sick with no hope of help from her, made her heart hurt.

She dropped the ice box in surprise when her cell phone rang. It startled her. She ran to her room, almost tripping over the ice she left scattered on the floor. It would be bad for the wood, but this was a crisis. She answered it without even looking at who it was. She didn't care. She needed to talk to someone. ANYONE.

"Hello?"

"Haruhi, how are you? Is the thunder bad on that end?" Thank God it was Kyouya.

"Kyouya, Tamaki's in trouble."

There was a slight pause. "What?"

Haruhi twiddled the fingers of her free hand, rubbing them together, picking at her nails.

"He's passed out again, and his fever's really, really high."

"Have you tried waking him up?"

She blinked. "No, not yet-"

"Wake him up, Haruhi. Now."

She fled from her room and back into the kitchen. Kyouya wasn't a doctor, but his family did own a significant chain of hospitals. He would know what to do, if he was here. She fell on her knees next to Tamaki, shaking his shoulder. When he didn't wake, she shook harder, commanding, and then pleading with him to wake up. Kyouya interrupted her.

"Haruhi, I want you to strip him down, and get him in ice. I don't care how. I'm calling someone for him. They'll be there to pick him up as soon as they can. Just stay calm. I'm sure he's going to be fine."

Somewhere on the other end of the line, before Kyouya hung up, she heard Hikaru faintly say, "You know, I thought idiots weren't supposed to _catch_ colds."

Haruhi had to laugh a little, but it was a sudden, almost sobbing laugh. Her eyes stung. She was scared. Her free hand clutched to one of Tamaki's; even his hands felt hot. She left her phone on the floor, pushing up her sleeves. In a swift motion, she had Tamaki hooked under the arms and was dragging him down the hall towards the small bathroom. It was all going to be all right. He would be fine, just like always.

He was always fine.

Nothing bad ever happened to Tamaki. Probably because he was such a good person.

She pulled him into the bath, trying to be gentle while still being quick. He was limp all over, scarcely moving, save for his breathing. Thank goodness he was breathing. She started undoing the buttons of his shirt with shaking hands.

Bad things _did_ happen to Tamaki, now that she thought about it. He missed his mother terribly, his father was gutless in the face of Tamaki's grandmother, and the grandmother in question was, frankly, quite a bitch. Haruhi felt a little bad thinking it, as Tamaki seemed to think so much of her. A button refused to undo, and in her fumbling frenzy, she ripped the fabric of his shirt. Well, he could buy another. He _was_ quite wealthy, wasn't he?

She tried to keep her mind off him. If she thought too much about him laying there in front of her, unresponsive and pale, she wouldn't be able to hold in her fear. She was frightened for him. She didn't want this to be the last time they were together-… alone together. She liked being alone with Tamaki. When he wasn't trying to be her father, it wasn't so bad. His company was tolerable, even desirable. She yanked at his pants, smiling just a little. If he were coherent right now, he would probably be fighting back. He was so weird when it came to clothes, especially around her. How did it take her so long to notice that? Tamaki always got a funny look on his face when she was wearing something particularly girly. He couldn't stand to see her in bathing suits. He was just so strange, that Suoh boy.

By now, he was down to his underwear, and for the sake of them both Haruhi decided that she had gone far enough. She threw on the faucet, adjusting the water to a lukewarm temperature, and stepped out of the tub. She kept a hand on his head, fingers gently moving through his blonde hair, eyes blank. This was so unlike him. For the next few minutes, Haruhi endured short moments of panic, followed by rushing waves of peace. She alternated by worrying herself to death, and assuring herself that nothing bad would happen.

He wasn't responding to anything she was doing. The water rose, now up to his bare midsection, but he wasn't even stirring. She stared at his chest, now. It was so white. She had seen him with his shirt on before (since he always seemed to be taking it off, for some reason, the idiot), but now she felt, again, that stupid feeling in the pit of her stomach. That tiny little tingle of something she couldn't quite understand. She reached forward—placed her hand on his chest, kept her fingers against his wet skin. Her eyes stung. She choked.

"Tamaki."

The door shook from the front of the house. No one waited for her to answer. The door was down and off its hinges within moments of the first inclination that someone was there. People flooded her house like ants to a picnic. She barely had time to stand, back up, when men in uniform broke into the bathroom. They went for Tamaki, speaking to her in stilted words, asking questions like, "How long has he been like this?" or "What has he been eating?" Haruhi didn't bloom in situations like this, so her answers were rather unhelpful.

They left as soon as they came. They took Tamaki away. She could still feel the wet gloss of his skin on her fingers. Her fist cinched up. She hung her head, gritting her teeth as small tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes.

Kyouya and the others weren't far behind. They found her outside the bathroom, leaning against the frame, one hand over her face. Hikaru tried to hurry into a heated explanation about their lateness, and then started bad-mouthing Kyouya's men, insisting that they must have upset Haruhi somehow. Kaoru hung back, watching her, eyebrows drawing together. He went to her after a second, putting an arm over her shoulder, holding her close. He glared at Hikaru to do the same. Kyouya had a cell phone pasted to ear, his other hand resting on his hip. He looked, like always, unfazed by the situation. But the stiffness of his posture, the rigid tone to his voice-… it said enough about how he felt. He listened intently, presumably getting briefed on Tamaki's current condition.

Ranka came in last of all, stepping into his home, looking at the knocked furniture, the boiling soup on the stove, the tepid water in the bath. He saw his daughter buried between the twins, covering her face, tears streaming down her face. And that's when he smiled, looking away to the soft rain though the window; the dark, stormy sky.

"Ah, Haruhi," he said in a voice no one heard. He reached out and adjusted a lamp on an end table. "It seems as if-…I'll have to share you, after all these years of keeping you for myself."

Ranka sighed, then laughed a little. It was a rather bitter laugh. "I just don't see why it has to be _him_, I have to share you with."


	8. It's Scary

**A.N: OMG, guys... I have been SO busy! SERIOUSLY.. And I have a DRRR fic that I'm also working on, so I've been juggling pplot lines LOL. I had to watch some OHSHC in order to get back int the swing of things. This is a short chapter, and I don't think it will satisfy many of you, so I'll try and update again very soon. A big "thank you" to everyone who has stuck with me thus far :D. I LOVE YOU GUYS! ^^**

Ranka flipped a page in his magazine. An old issue of Cosmopolitan he had picked up off a clearance rack last week. He wasn't really reading it. How could he? Things were so tense all of a sudden. While head was angled downwards, surveying the pages, his eyes floated up to watch his precious daughter. It had been three hours. About three hours since they took Tamaki away. Not much time had passed, not much had happened.

Kyouya, after getting off the phone with his personnel, had told everyone that no one truly knew what was wrong with Tamaki yet, other than he seemed to have a cold that had spiraled out of control. The twins, who had been comforting Haruhi most of the time, had little to say. Hikaru, of course, offered a gruff excuse as to why Tamaki needs to stop being such an idiot and take better care of himself. Haruhi could only nod, try to smile, look the other way. She slipped out of their arms eventually and crossed her own, guarding herself.

Kyouya adjusted his glasses with a finger. "They said it isn't much to worry about. He's alive, certainly. Stable."

Hikaru put a hand over his hip, scowling. He was worried, and worry usually made him angry, not sad. He huffed breath, closing his eyes. "He really is just an idiot. He should have been lying down."

Haruhi cringed, clenching the hem of her shirt, and Hikaru instantly regretted his comment. It had been her fault that Tamaki had been up and about. If she had only made him stay in bed, this wouldn't have happened. He wouldn't be in the hospital. Her grip tightened. Hikaru stumbled to take back what he said.

"Not that-.. you know.. it probably.." He couldn't find the right words. Upsetting Haruhi was the last thing he wanted to do right now. At a loss, he glanced over at Kaoru for help, eyes more than a little pleading. Kaoru just held up his hands, shrugging in mock defeat. Even he wasn't sure how to comfort her.

And if the twins didn't know what to do, Kyouya certainly had nothing meaningful to offer, aside from the logical approach. He flipped open his phone again, presumably to call someone else.

"There's no need to get upset," he said, scrolling down his contact list. "He'll make a full recovery, I'm sure."

Haruhi's fists clenched, and she slammed her eyes shut, teeth clenched, body stiff. Her voice was louder, but weaker than usual. "That's what they said about my mom-.."

Ranka's head bolted up from behind his magazine, eyes trained on her. The Ouran boys all looked at her. Kyouya paused, thumb hovering over the "call" button. Haruhi was breathing funny, trying to hold back tears. She had cried enough for today, and she didn't want to do it again. The situation called for strength, not weakness…but she couldn't help herself.

"They said she would be fine, she would-… wouldn't be sick for very long!"

Ranka stood up. Both the twins reached out a little. Haruhi staggered back from them, beginning to sob.

"It was all supposed to be okay! Don't you get it?"

Kyouya adjusted his glasses again, using it as an excuse to look at the ground. He didn't want to see Haruhi like this, and he was sure she didn't want them to see her like this either. She was unmasking herself, revealing the kind of fears she held underneath her skin. Everyone had these moments. Some people, like Haruhi, preferred to have them in private.

"Hikaru, Kaoru," Kyouya said. Both the twins looked over, distraught. The Ootori pasted his phone to his ear again, turning on his heel for the door. "It's late. We're leaving."

"Leaving?" Hikaru gestured to the embarrassed and distressed Haruhi, who now had Ranka's hands on her shoulders. "We can't just go! She needs us."

"She needs her father," Kyouya said, voice quiet, almost grave. After opening the door, he stood on the porch. He didn't say another word to them, but he did start talking to the person on the other line of the phone.

"Yes, Shima? This is Kyouya." He turned his back to the interior of the house, beginning to walk down the elevated porch and towards the steps. "Oh, you've already received a call? Very good, I'm glad…No, I'm with Fujioka and the Hiitachins…"

The brothers, albeit reluctantly, followed Kyouya. They watched Haruhi over their shoulders, wishing they could do something to help. There was nothing they could do, really. It was all up to her daddy now. And Ranka was doing a fine job. The tranny really was a good father. Kyouya kept on.

"Yes, I expect it shall…You're with him?.. Oh, well you should bring Antoinette. I'm sure he'd like to see her when he wakes up…" Kyouya smiled. "Yes, I know…"

And as the Ouran boys left, they abandoned the two forms framed by the front doorway, both of them hugging one another. The girl, her head buried in the man's chest, crying as softly as she could. The man held her close, said nothing but occasional words of comfort, or an affectionate shushing noise. They were a small, broken family still mourning their loss. The wound would never completely heal.

Haruhi hated herself, hated her ability to feel, and hated Tamaki most of all. He made her care so much. He made her worry when he was not himself, go after him when he was in trouble, and cry when he suffered. Tamaki made her care. Care about him like she had never cared about a boy before. She loved her father. She cherished her mother. But she treasured Tamaki. She could feel that now, as much as she hadn't wanted to acknowledge it. That Suoh boy was doing strange and wonderful things to her. She wanted to hate him, loathe him… so badly.

Maybe she could once-… but not now. It frustrated her, and comforted her, and scared her all at once. And maybe Ranka could feel that kind of love. He had loved Kotoko for all her open-mindedness and distant success from the very beginning. He knew what it was like to feel attracted to another.

Ranka was not stupid. Childish and moronic, yes. Dumb, no. He could see it in Haruhi's eyes. That deep affection. The worry. He rubbed her back.

"He'll be fine, sweetie," he said, resting his forehead to her brunette crown. "You'll see."


	9. It Gets Serious

**AN: Oh my GOODNESS! This is a long chapter! I've had a renewed inspiration for this project :D. Watching Ouran has invigorated me ^^. I can't get enough of that show LOL. ANYWAY, something tells me that this fic, for what it's worth, is going to get a little more serious. There is some serious Haru-Tama shipping going on here, so be prepared :D. Also, I apologize if characters seem at any time OOC, since I'm still trying to work out how they would act in these situations. Expect this fic to wrap up soon, perhaps in the next few chapters, depending on whether or not I go through with a random plot twist or not ;D.. Cheers, and enjoy!**

9. It Gets Serious

Tamaki hated being still. It was one of the things he just wasn't very good at. He was a charmer, a dramatist, a creative spirit, a philanthropist, and quite the commoner guru. But when it came to just lying around, especially when he was alone, it didn't come naturally to him. Tamaki was the boy who liked being up and about, liked laughing with his friends and engaging them in games or adventurous conquests. Being laid up in bed with a cold was not his idea of fun.

Luckily, he had arrived at the hospital early enough for the medical staff to treat his fever without having to rush. Fatal fevers breech 108 degrees Fahrenheit. Tamaki's peaked at around 105. He woke from his unconsciousness the morning after his evening fever-scare, and found himself in his own bed. The medical authorities deemed him stable, though weak. They recommended a few mild symptom relievers as well as an antibiotic, but what Tamaki really needed, they said, was a day of unstressed rest. There was relief to everyone in the local Suoh estate, as well as Tamaki's father, who was contacted by Shima the moment she knew of something amiss. Because of the demands of his business, Mr. Suoh could not take time from his schedule to visit his son, though he did go out of his way to call Tamaki and apologize for it.

Tamaki himself was overburdened by the worry his friends and family offered him. While he was a lover of drama, and at times inadvertently enjoyed incorporating it into his daily routine, he was not a fan of enormous amounts of attention from people at his expense.

First there was Antoinette, who didn't really count. She had been there at his bedside upon his waking, and showered him with slobbery kisses. He laughed, too tired to push her off, a little dazed at the sudden assault. After sensing the drop in his health when he first came home, Antoinette had slept next to him to ensure his safety. She was a loyal dog.

Secondly there was Shima, who made a point to sit with him until he awoke just so she could lecture him on personal wellness. He could tolerate that.

"I knew you had come down with something! Why you wanted to run about in the nasty weather and get worse, I have no idea! The young master should not risk himself for petty reasons!"

The rant had gone along those lines, with tangential topics involving his study habits and social circle thrown in. He had listened with a heavy head, bleary vision, and slight weariness, petting the back of his dog. He sniffled, much to his chagrin, countless times. For his sake, she ended it a little early to allow him reprieve, and even went so far as to stroke his hair a little, in the affectionate way his mother would. She told him to get well and bid him goodbye. When he asked, leaning forward, when he could get up, she replied that she thought he would do better in to stay in bed for a few days. No doubt it would keep him still. Tamaki wilted, but didn't argue with her. He had only looked out the window, at the lousy, grey, drizzly weather, and was forced to agree.

Thirdly, there were his friends. Kyouya was in his room within moments after Tamaki called him. Neither of the twins came along, to Tamaki's slight disappointment and quiet relief. He cared about those shady brothers certainly, but they were never ones to take things seriously and they usually just gave him an aneurysm. It was a shock to Tamaki to see the Ootori without a computer, legal pad, notebook or any form of electronic means of communication. Not so much as a slip of paper. Kyouya had come apparently to spend time with his best friend and with no one, or nothing, else. This warmed Tamaki's heart, like only a close, brotherly friendship can.

They spoke about simple things. Tamaki didn't want to talk about himself. He had dealt enough with talking about himself. He didn't really mention it to people, mostly because he didn't want to sound conceited, but most if not all of the resident nurses (hired by his father, no doubt) gravitated to his room like fireflies to a bug lamp. They were always hurrying in, glued together in small groups, making excuses to see the 'lonely Suoh boy.' They were either taking his temperature, checking his vitals, bringing him food, offering him changes of clothes, or even going so far as to try and massage him (trying to convince him that a good, hardy blood flow would help break the fever). To his horror, they even sat here and cooed at him when he had to sneeze. Like all his sneezes, they were dreadfully slow to rise, and he _hated _having people just stare. Every since one of those girls would just watch, smiling, telling him how cute he was. Tamaki, always the pleaser, tried to get them to leave him alone. He liked company, but he wasn't in the mood for this kind of company.

He used to enjoy the girls. Their attention.

But lately it just didn't seem to be enough.

Only one girl could give him the attention he really wanted, and he hadn't seen her since the thunderstorm episode the day before. She hadn't come to visit him, and he couldn't blame her.

"So," he said, voice stunted as he attempted to word his sentence in a way that didn't sound needy. Antoinette cuddled against his leg, rolling over. He scratched her belly, rubbing his nose with his wrist. He hadn't sneezed since Kyouya arrived, but he felt like he had to. "Tell me what happened again?"

Kyouya, with one arm draped over the back of his chair, legs crossed, let his head tip back as he sighed heavily. Now in the presence of his best friend, he could act with a little less decorum.

"Tamaki, I've told you at least a dozen times. You passed out cold on her kitchen floor, she stripped you down to your underwear and put you in the bathtub, and then my men arrived."

Tamaki shuddered. He kept shuddering at the part where Haruhi took his clothes off. He couldn't decide whether he would have rather been awake or not for that part. Being awake would have been great. Her hands would have been removing the very things that kept their bodies apart.

Then he clenched. Antoinette stirred, looked up at him. Tamaki closed his eyes. What was he thinking? He was practically her father! Or was he? He couldn't tell anymore. The whole thing made his head spin. He leaned back against his pillows and Antoinette nudged him with her cold, wet nose. She whined a little. Kyouya stood up and went to him, putting his hand on his arm. Ever since the scare at the house, even if it was just a fever, Kyouya (as well as the rest of the club) was a little wary when it came to signs of further illness with Tamaki.

The Suoh read Kyouya's thoughts immediately, with just that touch to his arm. "I'm fine," he said, not opening his eyes. "I'll let you know if something's wrong."

Kyouya thumped back down into his chair, putting his feet up on the edge of Tamaki's bed, closing his eyes as well. Antoinette laid her head back down on the bed, snuggling against the sheets. The blonde started petting her again, hoping she knew that he was perfectly fine. His nose twinged and he felt the rising balloon of prickles. He couldn't say he wasn't relieved. When one waits for what seems like several hours for a damn sneeze, when it finally comes it's practically welcomed.

Kyouya had his arms crossed, expression unreadable and bored, when he noted the slight twang in Tamaki's expression. He smirked a little. "About time."

Tamaki had a smile back, if only just a little. The Ootori had known him long enough to predict this kind of thing. Even as his eyes fluttered shut, breath blooming in his chest, he managed to speak. "Shut up."

Kyouya just scoffed, smirking wider, untangling his arms to allow one to hang along the back of the chair again. The Ootori knew that Tamaki didn't overzealous attention when he was ill, so Kyouya looked off to the side at Tamaki's many possessions, ignoring Tamaki as he attempted to sneeze. Most of Tamaki's things were childish and useless to him now. Glass figurines of animals, dated posters picturing celebrities that were no longer in style. Kyouya had to smile. Tamaki was such a showman; a lover of the arts. And he was also one to care about things that go unnoticed by the masses.

"Hehhhhh-...ESSKSCHII!"

Kyouya didn't so much as flinch, but the noise was startling. Without bothering to look over at the Suoh, Kyouya spoke. "Gesundheit."

"Ehhh-!.. hh-Heh-ESSKSCCHII!.. HEH-SCHIII! KSCHII!"

"Gesun-"

"HEEH-CHII! HIH-KSCHII!"

Kyouya glanced over at Tamaki, seeing his blonde hair hanging over his eyes as he hunched, elbow against the lower half of his face, his expression that of a man contending with a nightmare. Eyebrows cinched, eyes squinted. Even when he sneezed he looked like a dumbass. Kyouya shook his head once, uttering an amused "hm," before Tamaki pitched forward.

"HEHHH-ESSKSCHEII!"

After this he seemed appeased and lowered the arm from his face, letting a soft, tired sigh pass through him. He closed his eyes, rubbed one with a fist. Kyouya watched the energy drain out of him. Tamaki was always so lively, seeing him like this was slightly off-putting. That's when Kyouya let off a sigh of his own, deciding he would have to go through with it. He would have to bring it up.

"You know, Tamaki," he said, voice practical, but carefully pitched. "Maybe it would be best for all of us if you just confessed to her."

Tamaki's eyes flashed open, staring at the ceiling. He didn't say anything. It was a full minute of silence, of reflection and collection, before Tamaki's eyes closed again. He dug at one of them, this time a bit more irritably, with a fist.

"I'm not sure if I understand what you mean by 'confess.'"

"Enough games, Tamaki." Kyouya shifted in his seat, tone now a little less pleasant. "You're killing yourself."

"I said I'm fine."

"You're not."

"It's just a cold, Kyouya."

"You're lovesick, and the whole club knows it."

The words hung in the air. The delivery was swift, but it stung. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Startling. Tamaki couldn't will himself to challenge that, as much as he wanted to. The whole club knew? Knew what? He didn't love Haruhi like that, he couldn't. It would destroy everything he had worked so hard to build. It would ruin things. He would rather pine away in the distance, unrequited, than jeopardize his family.

"That's not true."

"Don't deny it."

"It's not!" He sat up suddenly, and Antoinette stirred, looking up at her master with glassy, concerned eyes. She whined, and went ignored by the boys. Tamaki bore the face of a melodramatic child. "Daddies don't feel that way about their little girls."

"Tamaki," Kyouya sighed, more out of a growing frustration with the stubborn boy than anything else. "If this is about the club, you should put that out of your head."

The blonde put up a glare that challenged his friend. It sort of hurt that his partner, the one with whom he started the club, was disregarding it like that.

"The club means something to me, Kyouya," he said, voice cold. Kyouya looked over at his friend. He had never heard Tamaki's voice like that before. Not usually, anyway. "You of all people should know that."

"If you think the club will suffer because of your feelings for Haruhi, you're absurd."

"_You're_ absurd if you think the club will take such a move lightly! We're a family, and we don't need to do anything to break it apart."

Kyouya stood up again, slamming his shoes to the ground as he did so. He pointed at Tamaki. "If you would just _man up_ and face your own damn affections, maybe we wouldn't be having this ridiculous argument."

Tamaki jumped up from his own bed, bare feet to the floor in his nighty pajamas (which he hoped weren't detracting from his credibility), taking a powerful stance. Legs apart, shoulders back, face in Kyouya's face. His nose itched with a sneeze, but he ignored it.

"This isn't ridiculous! This is something special. For some of us, this family is the only thing we can depend on!"

"Haven't you ever paused and contemplated what's going to happen come college? We can't have this club forever, Tamaki. And I'm fairly certain that we all won't attend the same institution. Regardless of what you want, life gets in the way of family."

Kyouya leaned closer to Tamaki, trying to force him to understand, beating this truth into the blonde's thick head. "Things happen, Tamaki. People die, move away, mourn, and move on. It's what happens when you grow up."

Tamaki was staring down at the ground. He refused to say anything. Kyouya sighed again, scratching at the back of his head in mild irritation at Tamaki's juvenile behavior.

"There's nothing you can do to this family that hasn't already, or isn't going to happen. If you let your fears paralyze you, you're weaker than I thought," he said. He reached out, putting a hand on Tamaki's shoulder. Tamaki did nothing, like he didn't even recognize its presence. "Think of Haruhi and the thunder. She has nothing to be afraid of, and yet she can't move. Think of yourself. How different is this?"

Tamaki shrugged off Kyouya's hand, head still down. He was going to pout. Sulk. Sit in the corner and trace the contours of the floor until he got his way. At least that's what it looked like to Kyouya. He groaned, turning away from his friend, taking the chair and dragging it back towards the desk in the corner. That's when something seemed to occur to him.

"You made her cry, after all. She does care about you, to an extent," he said, settling the chair into its place. Haruhi didn't cry over just anyone. It took someone special. Tamaki, Kyouya thought, should consider that a good sign.

"Naturally, Tamaki," he said as he pushed his glasses up. He could feel Tamaki's eyes on his back. "If you don't act soon, someone else will." He spoke of Hikaru. It wouldn't be long before the boy realized his own feelings. He said all of this not to upset Tamaki, but to warn him, to council him. He didn't want his best friend to lose someone that meant so much to him just because of a lousy parental experience. Haruhi was worth more than that.

She was a gem. Very original. She was pragmatic, yet kind. Kyouya wondered sometimes if she really loved Tamaki. It was hard to read her. She was impassive at times; at others she was as open as a book. Never as open as the Host King, though. He looked over his shoulder to stare at Tamaki, who wore a peculiar expression on his face. One that Kyouya, despite his many years with the boy, had never experienced.

It was a cross between rising clarity, and grave acceptance. A mixture of understanding, and also sorrowful settlement, like a crippled child realizing he will never walk. Standing there, fists clenched, eyes downcast and distant, Tamaki didn't look like himself. And that's when Kyouya realized it. The emotion caught on Tamaki's face-...

It was despair.

And he had never seen Tamaki in despair before. Suoh Tamaki was a magnificent person. One of admirable strength and character, often the envy of boys and girls alike. His genuine nature and natural innocence were essential to his charm, and he used them to his advantage without meaning to. He manipulated, and cajoled, without even knowing it. That's what made him so great.

Tamaki also cared deeply for others. He was dense, oblivious and an overall dumbass because of his overwhelming compassion for other people. When he troubled himself so often and so blindly with people he hardly even knew, his own sense of self need faded into the background. Kyouya, staring at him now, wondered how many nights Tamaki laid in bed, thinking about his mother. Tamaki never felt sorry for himself and never gave anyone else any reason to pity him. But now in his bedroom, watching the Suoh fall to pieces, Kyouya felt a little sorry.

"Tamaki?" he started, but for once even Kyouya was unsure of what to say. The Suoh would often pull overly dramatic stunts to appeal to his case when he wanted something he couldn't have, but Kyouya doubted that this was one of those times. Antoinette leapt down from the bed and nosed under his head, whining again. She worried so much lately, about her master.

Much to Kyouya's surprise, and slight suspicion, Tamaki looked up with a smile on his face. It was difficult to discern if the expression was now painted or real, but Suoh Tamaki wasn't capable of faking a smile, was he?

"As always, mon ami, you are absolutely right," he said in his usual, flamboyant cadence. Though it was a little scratchy, due to his cold. He lifted a finger, pointing it at Kyouya. "The sands of time may wash over and bury the Host club soon enough, but I refuse to let it happen while I'm still King!"

He punctuated his statement with a kingly stance, striking it as regally as he could in his choo-choo train pajamas. Kyouya rolled his eyes. Tamaki certainly recovered fast, and knowing him, his delusions kept him from undergoing any permanent damage. The boy was wonder as much as he was made of rubber. Crap bounced right off of him.

"Even as the sun sets upon our time at Ouran Academy, I will made it my personal mantra to keep the Host Club as fresh and as fruitful as is possible." He slammed a determined fist into the palm of his hand, grinning with a renewed vigor. "The family will prevail! I will be sure of ii-hihh-..."

Tamaki's shoulders began to rise, the blades gathering near his neck as his head slowly tipped back, mouth opening. Kyouya took this golden opportunity to push him down against his bed again. Tamaki, eyes now closed, let out a startled noise that was soon eclipsed by a heavy gasp as he collapsed against the sheets

"HEH-KSCHHH!"

"Gesun-"

"HEH-KSCHHHII!"

"Gesund-"

"HIH-HEKSCHHH!"

Kyouya waited a few moments before attempting, for the third time in a row, to exercise decorum. "Gesundheit, Tamaki."

Tamaki only nodded, sniffling deeply. Kyouya tried not to wrinkle his face at the hollow, gurgling noise that ensued, but it was mighty tempting. "Tamaki, for pete's sake. Blow your nose."

"I'b-" Tamaki paused at his congested speech, and tried to sniffle again. The resulting noise was one of stunted suction. His nose was too stuffed up to even think about breathing. He sighed in defeat. "I'b oud of tissues."

Kyouya stared at him, watching Tamaki's blue eyes slowly morph from liquid to pleading, then to just plain puppy-dog begging. He buckled. No one could resist that kind of secret weapon. With an ounce of exasperation, he rose to his feet.

"Fine, fine," he said, hands slipping into his pockets. Tamaki's expression immediately brightened. Antoinette perked up as well, looking up at her master, ears alert, and then back to Kyouya. The Ootori could have sworn that the dog and Tamaki were wearing the same expression. "No need to thank me, you big doofus."

"Thaaaaaang you!"

Kyouya's cheeks hurt from smiling. He usually didn't smile this much on any given day, at least not sincerely. But Tamaki was bringing out the best in him this afternoon, like Tamaki always did with everyone. Even those twins, to a degree. He didn't even sense, as he clasped the doorknob in his hand, the fading smile upon Tamaki's lips.


	10. It's Go Time

**WARNING: Tamaki angst resides below! I cannot guarantee that he comes out in character, because I felt like this was a serious moment for him (and we all know he doesn't have many of those XD). Thanks for waiting so long everyone for an update! Oh, and Abregine, if you're reading this, thank for the push forward ;). I needed that!**

10. It's Go Time

As soon as Kyouya stepped out, door closing behind him, Tamaki's smile dropped. His smile wasn't as authentic as Kyouya's was today. He kicked off the covers, getting to his feet. The cold medicine mitigated his fever, tore down many of his debilitating symptoms like fatigue and weariness, so he felt decent enough to move about without falling or passing out.

He would rather die, though, than face what he had to face. He would like to be unconscious for it, in that dreaming place that people enter when they are between sleepiness and wakefulness. His family was breaking up, no matter what he did.

He made Haruhi cry.

He rubbed vigorously at one eye, feeling the moisture collect along the surface of his eyeballs. It would well over, and round off into a little droplet. Like the rain outside. He could hear it, that nasty stream of gross weather. It matched his mood. He felt much like a storm. Twisting and convulsing, sending shivers of electricity through his body and into the ground. Rumbling with his own sadness. Pouring himself onto the floor.

He made Haruhi cry.

How could he do that? Even as he stepped out of his pajama bottoms, slipping his legs into loose jeans, he wondered he how could have let that happen. She was dear to him. Haruhi was the only girl he wanted to be with all the time; in the morning, afternoon, evening, after school, before school, lunchtime, noontime, midnight, dawn, twilight, moonlight, under it glinting in the silver stands of stars, he in a suit, she in a dress, dancing, twirling, loving, being loved, hugging, kissing, running his hands over her, lips feeding on her own, foreheads together, breath becoming one, kissing kissing kissing-

"RGAAH!" Tamaki plastered his hands against his ears, hoping to funnel out the soundless noise, the hypnotism that fed these thoughts through his head. Tears pattered freely as he blinked, making dull noises as they hit the carpet of his bedroom. Pit, pat, pit, pat. It was no use; he couldn't pretend any more.

Kyouya was right.

Hikaru and Kaoru were right.

Haruhi was right.

They were all right..

He wasn't-... Haruhi's father.

But then, what was he to her? A senpai? An upperclassman? Was that all? He thought back to the other day, alone with her inside her house, watching her from his lounging space on the bed. What she said to him.

_Just because I don't like you pretending to be my father…doesn't mean I don't like you at all, senpai…. I mean, you're my friend._

Friend. He meant something to her, at least. Even if it was just a little. Would she go to the trouble of smiling at him? Of chasing after him on a carriage and putting herself in danger? Would she continue to be in the host club if she didn't care about him? He wanted to say no, of course not, but a debilitating lack of confidence overshadowed him. Tamaki was a self-assured person, apt to be beside himself when giving his word. But there was a nagging doubt in his mind. He could find no feasible evidence of her feelings.

Haruhi cared about the club, not him. The sacrifices she made were for the club because she liked it. That didn't guarantee her affections towards him. She probably cared for everyone else, except him. He was always causing her trouble, and she was sure to let him know it too. She would complain, gripe about his incessant hugging, commentate on his pretentious plans and flatly refuse to take part in some of them. He could think of a few times when she got angry with him. She seemed to put up with him, just like she did with her father. He wasn't a joy, he was a burden to her. Who wanted another father anyhow? For Haruhi, one certainly seemed to be enough.

"Heh-!...Heh-.." Tamaki pressed the edge of his wrist to his nose, his eyes narrowing, squeezing out tears. What's worse of all was the damn cold. It was, he concluded, the physical manifestation of his guilt and love. Maybe it was fate that he got sick, because it started a stringing chain of events. One to another, and another, and another...

"Heh-ESSKCHII!"

He could not say when it all started, as he slipped his head through the collar of a t-shirt, rubbing his nose. He remembered the first day she arrived in Music Room 3 naturally, but he couldn't for the life of him recall what had transpired to leave him so-... helpless. So hopelessly infatuated with her. He hadn't stopped to think about it until now, but he left all his flanks open. He was unguarded against her, completely defenseless, and he didn't mind. Not at all. He should be bothered by it, how open he had become. But he had always been that way. He had no masks. Tamaki could only offer himself, bare and sensitive, to the world he loved so dearly. Did that make him weak, or all the stronger? He didn't usually think about things like this. It never used to matter before. It shouldn't matter to him now, whether he would get his feelings hurt or not, but it did.

He was afraid.

Tamaki was afraid of being honest with her. With himself.

He wasn't her father, he was her friend. A good friend. Best friend? No. She didn't have any of those, did she? Haruhi felt so far away when he watched her. Even when he hugged her, he could never seem to reach. Today, he had closed that gap. It hadn't been there. Hugging her on the floor of her kitchen, listening to her breathe, remembering that night at the beach, and those short moments in the air over the bridge when he held her in his arms... she was obtainable.

The young Suoh shimmied his feet into his tennis shoes, ignoring the laces and not wasting his time with socks. If he wanted to get out without delay or explanation, he had no time for extras. After a short analysis of the situation, Tamaki decided that "friend" wasn't good enough. If he was her friend, then so was everyone else in the club.

Kyouya.

Honey-senpai.

Mori-senpai.

Hikaru and Kaoru.

His blue eyes narrowed, his fingers cinching around his doorknob. He wore nothing but the barest clothes, the quickest things he could find to slip on. The rain drizzled outside. Friends wasn't good enough. Tamaki didn't want to be just like everyone else she knew. He didn't want to be what just _anybody_ could mean to her. He wanted to be special. If Tamaki couldn't be her father, he would be something just as important to her. Someone who loved her as much as Ranka did.

His feet carried him out of his room, across the landing, down the stairs. When he heard Shima coming around a corner, he felt no panic. He merely turned and sidestepped into a bathroom, lingering in the darkness of the small space, waiting for her to pass. He felt numb. He couldn't feel what he was doing, and he was glad of that. The only thing he wanted to feel right now was Haruhi in his arms.

He made her cry.

He would fix that.

He would show her, even if that meant destroying himself, his family, in the process.

Even if it ruined everything, he couldn't keep hiding. Kyouya was right.

By tonight, it would be finished.

Kyouya held the tissue box in one hand, and pushed open Tamaki's door with the other, staring down at the box.

"Here, Tamaki. These apparently contain lotion to ease dry skin and sore-" He paused when his eyes befell an empty bed. Mussed pajamas on the floor. No Tamaki.

"Tamaki?" The Ootori peeked into the adjoining bathroom, and then around the other side of the bed. "Tamaki."

No answer.

The tissue box was crushed as his hand tightened around it. The cardboard groaned. Kyouya gritted his teeth. "You dumbass," he said, spiking the box to the floor. "When I said confess, I didn't mean _now._"


	11. It Gets Real

**A.N: Soooo... There was a sudden rush of inspiration, and I wrote 2,000 words of drabbling goodness XDDD.. This thing is really heating up, and it won'y be long until it's over for good. This being my first fic on this site, it holds some sentimental value, and I'm honored that so many people enjoyed it! I only hope to bring you more entertainment in the future :D.. So here you are, my friends: another rousing installment of "Curing the Love Bug!" XDDDD..**

11. It Gets Real

When there was a knock on her door in the late afternoon, when the rain was still flaking out of the sky like shavings from the skin of an orange, and when her father said that he wouldn't be home until late because he had to close up that night, Haruhi Fujioka did not expect the person on the other side to be who it was.

"Hey, Haruhi-.."

She stared at him. What was he doing here? And alone, too. She thought Kaoru would have come along at least. It wasn't like Hikaru to be without him.

"Hikaru," she said. She hoped she didn't sound unwelcoming. She was just surprised. "What are you doing here? Where's Kaoru?"

"Oh, he's-…" Hikaru trailed off for a moment, searching for something to say. He settled on something sarcastic, and perhaps a little harsh. "Why does that even matter, huh? You want to see him instead?" He leaned against the frame of the door, clothes damp from the rain. He got his driver to drop him off a little ways beyond her house, because he wanted the walking-time to think about what he was going to say to her.

"Or am I just not the complete package without him?"

Haruhi narrowed her eyes. She placed her palm on the edge of her door, ready to slam it at moment's notice. "There's no need to be like that when _you're_ the one who's barging in on _me_," she said, her tone adopting a cadence much like his. "Is there something that you want, or did you just come by to complain?"

Hikaru blinked once, body stiffening. This wasn't how he wanted this to go. His cheeks colored, but he recovered fast, giving her a sharp sigh. "Look," he said. He took a step closer, and she took a step back. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right…"

It was Haruhi's turn to blink. He came by, _alone_, _on his own time_, to make sure she was _all right?_... That didn't seem like Hikaru. That was more of Kaoru's shtick. But she wasn't as surprised as she was flattered. It was nice to know that the snarky Hikaru cared.

"Yeah, I'm all right."

"Just-… you know, yesterday was pretty rough."

"I know."

"You-…I mean, you cried and all-"

Haruhi clenched up, voice a bit cold. "I know that, Hikaru."

There was a moment of awkward silence, and Haruhi's mind wandered to yesterday when she and Tamaki had shared the same silences. These seemed more awkward to her, but that might have been her memory playing tricks. Hikaru averted his eyes before stepping inside. He nearly pushed himself through the doorway, as if there had been a great weight holding him back.

"Mind if I come in? It's kind of raining outside."

Haruhi moved back, giving him room so their bodies weren't so close. Being that close to Hikaru without Kaoru nearby felt weird. It verged on her like a cloud, sinking over her head with sudden knowledge. She nodded at him.

"Yeah, you can come in," she said. After shutting the door it was quiet again, save for the soft pattering on the roof. The atmosphere inside the tiny house was dragged down by the tension. "Can I get you anything?"

"Nah, I just don't want to go back home just yet."

"Really?" she said, walking into the kitchen. She had been drying the dishes before Hikaru arrived, so she busied herself with that again. Hikaru shoved his hands in his pockets and reluctantly followed her in, glowering at the small accommodations. Haruhi smiled a little as she looked out the window. "That's funny."

"What's funny?" he said, glancing over at her. He sat himself down in a chair, crossing his ankles and lacing his arms behind his head.

"I've never been alone with you before."

Hikaru paused to think on that one, and then grinned. The red-head closed his golden eyes, pushing back his limp hair with a hand. Because it was wet, it hung in his face more than it usually did. His hair gel wasn't as water-proof as he thought.

"Sure you have."

Haruhi eyed him over her shoulder. "Okay, fine. When?"

"At the Halloween thing last year at school."

She remembered. The group got separated. The Class Rep and Kaoru were locked inside a dark classroom, while Haruhi and Hikaru got snagged in a trap net suspending from the ceiling. It had been the briefest of moments, but they had been alone. She frowned, and wondered why Hikaru would remember something as trivial as that.

"But that was only for a few minutes."

"So? We were still alone," he said. Then he smirked. "I win."

Hikaru hadn't been able to forget that night. Haruhi had leaned over the cut the net, and her chest hovered above his face a few inches. She thought nothing of it, but to him, it had been something else. Sure, Haruhi was flat as a board and she knew it, but she was cute. And smart. And observant and big hearted. His cheeks twinged at the memory, eyes now open. He stared up at the fluorescent lighting, blinking, and felt a familiar prickling at the back of his nasal passages. He snapped forward with a sneeze.

"Ka-CHII!"

Haruhi jumped, since she hadn't been expecting it. She hadn't expected any sneezing really, since the only person who had been doing that lately was laid up in bed several miles away. She turned to see Hikaru rubbing his nose irritably, and she sighed at him.

"Not you too."

He glared at her, but was grinning. "What? I don't even get a bless you?"

He got a sigh, a roll of the eyes, and then, "Bless you. But seriously Hikaru. Are you coming down with something?"

Hikaru resumed his kicked-back position, since the sneeze had snapped him forward, and she shook his head. "Nah."

"Be honest. You could have caught senpai's cold."

Hikaru's eyes opened again, and he didn't move for a second. When he spoke, it was under his breath. "I'd be a lucky man if I did."

"What was that?" Haruhi asked him half because she couldn't be sure on what she heard, and half because she didn't know if she wanted to believe it if she had.

He was on the spot, but he decided not to back down. He sniffled first, then said, "He's a lucky guy, the boss. Got to have you fawn all over him like a personal nurse. I wouldn't mind that."

Haruhi dropped the dish she was holding back into the sink, mostly because of the surprise. Is that what people thought? Was that what Tamaki was telling people? She was his nurse? His _personal nurse?_ And why would Hikaru _want_ that? What man wanted to be sick just so she could sit around and bring him stuff? It made her a little mad and a little nervous, but mostly embarrassed. She didn't get embarrassed that easily.

"You _want_ to be sick?"

Hikaru stood up, and the chair legs squeaked across the wooden floor.

"If it means being alone with you." His face was red, but the more he talked, the easier it got. Haruhi was level-headed, and while she was dense and a little blunt, it wasn't _that_ hard to talk to her about it. It took guts, but he felt strong enough now.

Seeing her break down the other night gave him the strength he needed.

Haruhi now turned slowly to look at his face, her eyes wide. She didn't know what to say to him, so she stated the obvious. "W-we're alone already."

Hikaru started walking towards her, bare feet carrying him across the soft wood to the girl at the sink clutching the drying towel. "Then I guess," he said, pulling the towel from her grip. "I don't have to catch a cold."

Now, Haruhi wasn't dumb. Not by any stretch of the imagination. She understood people just as well, if not better, than anybody else. She could read them, predict their actions to a degree. Haruhi could dig deep inside somebody and unearth who they truly were. So Haruhi, standing in her kitchen with Hikaru, watching him throw the dish towel to the floor and slowly lay his hands on hers, knew that the body was being genuine.

He was making a pass at her.

For real.

This wasn't a club joke, or a farce to gain attention. Or even a ploy to upset Tamaki-senpai. This was the real thing, and she could feel how nervous he was. How his hands shook, and his face was glued into a staple emotion of calm. Her reaction came naturally.

She slowly retreated, like her whole body was encased in syrup.

This only enticed him further.

"Haruhi, look-.." He sighed again, almost breathlessly. This moment was taking his breath away. "I know this is weird..."

Haruhi couldn't think of what to say, so she didn't speak. She turned around to the sink, and stared into the stagnant water. It smelled like last night's leftover curry.

"I'm just-... well, you know.." Hikaru wasn't a wordsmith like Tamaki. He himself wasn't even sure what he was feeling. It was warm, a little painful. It made him want to throw up, but he loved it. He grabbed her hand again.

"Will you look at me, at least?"

His tone rose an octave, voice cracking at the end. Haruhi could feel the sweat on his palm. It was partly his desperation, and her own fear that made her turn around. When she did, she found his lips nearly upon hers. She jerked back from him.

"Hikaru, what are you doing?" She didn't want to sound angry, but it sounded a little like that despite her best wishes. There was space between them now. Hikaru was still at the sink, and Haruhi was now near the fridge, rubbing her hand where he had touched her.

Her phone rang, and she hurried to pick it up. Anything to distract her from this. Anything. She didn't know where Hikaru got the idea that this was okay. It wasn't. This wasn't right. It felt strange, and she didn't like it. She pressed the receiver to her ear, trying not to look at Hikaru.

"Hello?"

"Haruhi." The voice was tinny on the other side, but she could recognize it.

"Kyouya-senpai?"

Hikaru straightened up, and one of his hands twitched. Oh no. No. No. NO. This was NOT going to happen. Hikaru had put himself on the spot, stuck his neck out to see if it would get chopped, and now Haruhi was chatting it up with the Dark Lord. Which, by extension, would mean she would be chatting it up with the boss.

"Haruhi, it's about Tamaki," the phone said.

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she willed herself not to react any further than that. Both her hands clutched the phone, knuckles white. "Yeah? What about him?"

His suspensions were confirmed. It was always about Tamaki. Always. If it weren't for the extra time Hikaru got with her because they were in the same class, he might have actually initiated a competition between he and the blonde Suoh. It just wasn't fair. The idiot got Haruhi by pretending to be her father, and here was Hikaru, actually putting forth effort.

He had to get to her before Tamaki did. Because if Tamaki was to actually realize his feelings-... Hikaru's eyes widened. If the boss were to _confess-_...

Haruhi gasped when Hikaru snatched the phone from her, and pressed it to his own ear.

"Hey, Kyouya," he said, teeth gritted, as he dropped the customary "senpai." Kyouya couldn't mask his surprise, even if he had wanted to. Hikaru continued. "Buzz off, will you?"

"Hikaru, what are you-?" There was a pause. Then Kyouya's voice was cold. "Hikaru, get out of there."

"Oh, come over here and make me," he said, one hand on his hip. He kept leaning this way and that to keep Haruhi from reaching the phone. She was nagging at him to hand it over, yanking at his arm.

"I will, should the need arise," came the reply. Kyouya was not happy. Hikaru snorted.

"Stop trying to protect him! You can't be his lookout forever."

Haruhi paused, letting her arms drop. Kyouya spoke so loudly, voice heightened by frustration, that she could hear him over the phone.

"That's not what I'm doing."

"That's _exactly_ what you're doing, and it's not fair."

There was a pause.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten Kaoru's countless attempts to present you to Haruhi."

Hikaru's face darted pink, then red as his temper heated. Haruhi felt coldness flood through her. A shiver down her spine. All this tension, all this rivalry in the club that revolved around her. How had she not seen it? By now, it seemed obvious.

All those times Tamaki insisted he was her father, shielding her from revealing clothes and warding her back from other men. It wasn't because he was delusional (at least, not _completely_); it was because he-... he-...

"Remind me again of why this is any of your business, Kyouya. Really." Hikaru didn't wait for the reply, and just hung up on the Ootori. It was probably a mistake, but he didn't care. The whole afternoon was already ruined, thanks to that phone call. Everything had been going well, at least to him. A few more minutes and Haruhi would have been his.

Or at least, she would have known that he wanted her to be.

"Hikaru?"

He blinked over at her, fists clenched. He was embarrassed, and he disliked that feeling as much as she. His hair hung in his eyes, and he seemed younger than before. His face was so sour, like a defiant child. Haruhi couldn't help it. She smiled.

"I don't think I like you the way you want me to like you."

It ripped him like a Band-Aid. It hurt, but it was quick and the sting faded. He sighed a third time, though this one was tired.

"I figured," he said. Then he collapsed in a chair, sort of falling onto it. He rested an elbow on the table, supporting his head with his hand. "It's just... You're the first person besides Kaoru that I want to be alone with..." He struggled for an explanation. "I just thought-..."

"I think," Haruhi interrupted, sitting down next to him, "that you're finally seeing the world. And everybody else in it."

He stared at her; at her growing brown hair, her huge eyes. The silkiness of her face.

"And I think that's good, Hikaru," she said. "It's probably confusing sometimes, but I think you'll find that you like being with lots of girls alone."

He grinned, and she grinned back. And they both laughed together, gently, in the small area. The rejection didn't hurt as badly as he thought. She knew, in a strange turn of events, how to soften the blow. Then again, she tended to reject men often, didn't she?

That's when he reached for her hand again.

"Haruhi?" He wouldn't meet her eyes, because they were staring right at him.

"What?"

Again, silence descended. No one said anything. His thumb was rubbing her hand, and she was about to pull away again when he spoke.

"Will you kiss me?"

**-waaaaaaah! Another cliffhanger :P.. Whaaaaat will haaaaappen? XDDD.. Don't worry. With all this crazy inspiration, the next chappie won't be far away :D. Don't be afraid to leave a review telling me to hurry up, though ;)**


	12. It Hurts, So Bad

**A.N: Almost over, guys. This is nearly the very end. I know I keep saying that, but there can't be more than a few chapters to go! I never finish things, so I'm pretty excited about this XDD. Hope you all like Tamaki angst! :DDDD**

12. It Hurts. So bad.

Splash, splash, splat.

Splash, splash, splat.

Running through puddles sounded like that sometimes. To Tamaki, it was all he could hear. Splash, splash, splat. That, and the pounding of his heart in his own head. It was so loud, the whole world could probably hear it. It throbbed out of pain, he liked to think. Warning him about what he was doing, and the kind of cracks his heart might suffer. Tamaki was oblivious to himself and his feelings most of the time, but this was something he couldn't ignore.

This was something he had to be selfish about.

This was something he would have to steal, and hold tight, and beg to keep while he protected it with all he had. He loved Haruhi, and the more he repeated it to himself, the easier it was to accept. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her.

It was the mantra that kept him running, kept him going. Even when he tripped over his undone laces, and ended up face-down on the pavement with his arms stinging from the scraps, he pushed back up and kept going. Nothing was going to stop him; not anything. Especially not a little rain. His blue eyes were firm-icy for a change. His light blonde hair was pasted against his forehead, body radiating a dull heat. Half from fever, half from emotion. Eventually, when his chest felt like it was caving in, he forced himself to rest against a bus route sign, erected near a bench. He tilted his head back, feeling the insistent rain wash down his face, mouth open as he panted harshly. His breath came out in soft wisps in the cool air. His hands shook.

It wasn't long before he felt the tell-tale tease start teething at the back of his nose. He didn't want to sneeze. He was too out of breath for that right now. Tilting his head forward to his chest, he made a noise at the back of his throat. One of struggle, one of resignation. He closed his eyes, wondering just what Haruhi was doing right now.

Thinking of him?

Probably not.

One could only hope and dream. And he was such a dreamer.

He opened his eyes, breathing through his nose, wincing at the sound. Maybe taking a pack of tissues with him would have been a good idea. Too late for that now. His breath started hitching, and he figured there wasn't anyone around to be embarrassed in front of, so he allowed himself the full contortion of his face, and deep, concentrated inhales, before he finally doubled over with a powerful, "HUIH-KSCCHHH!"

He waited to see if there would be another, because they never seem to come in singles, but he felt nothing else. Scrubbing at his nose with a sleeve, and trying to ignore his indignity, he started when someone spoke.

"Cover your mouth, you moron."

Tamaki froze, mostly out of surprise, and peered around the edge of the sign to see a middle-aged woman holding a red umbrella. After a moment of squinting, his heart sunk, and it was all he could do not to have his legs sink out from under him as well.

It was Haruhi's _dad_.

Ranka was dolled up in his Sunday best, getting ready to scoot over to the tranny-bar, so he might have the means to support his small family. Dark pink lipstick skirted across his lips, and he wore faint blue eye shadow, his hair curled, in a cocktail dress with a trench coat curled around him so he might stay warm in the chilly temperature. He eyed Tamaki suspiciously, then scoffed when he saw what thin clothes the boy was wearing.

"Are you trying to catch pneumonia, or is this a feat of strength?" he asked, eyes judgmental and cold. Tamaki, who now had his arms wrapped around himself (half for the warmth, the other half for protection from possible Ranka-abuse), averted his eyes. He sniffled, and then sighed quietly when he felt another sneeze coming on.

With no answer coming from the boy, who was usually overcompensating and talkative, Ranka inspected him a bit closer. The moron was soaked to the bone, pale and shivery, and clearly worn out. He was just such a pitiful sight, it was hard not to feel a little sorry for him. Like a lost, blonde puppy left out in the cold, with nowhere to go. When Tamaki staggered forward with two of his famously violent sneezes, trying to muffle them in his arm, Ranka reached out and yanked the boy under his spacious umbrella, closing his eyes so that he might not have to look at what he was doing. Looking at the bonehead long enough would just make him change his mind.

Tamaki stumbled as he was jerked under the shelter, blinking in the dryness. Unfortunately, getting out from under the rain made him realize how incredibly cold he was, and his body set into wracking shivers immediately. This frustrated him greatly. He cursed himself for having to do this now. Why couldn't he have been well for his confession? Why couldn't he have done this afterschool, or at a club meet? Why couldn't he have done it that night at the beach house, or under the bridge? He put a hand to his chest, breathing, glaring at the ground. He really was an idiot.

Again, Tamaki blinked in faint surprise when he felt Ranka's hand against his wet, chilled forehead. But the rain couldn't mask the mild fever baking beneath his skin. Ranka was disgusted with himself for even entertaining the idea of keeping Tamaki dry for a few passing moments. The boy had never introduced himself properly, forced his daughter to place herself in precarious positions, and the dumbass was constantly trying to take his place as Haruhi's father. There was no reason he should show the likes of him kindness.

But then again, Tamaki's family _did_ fund Haruhi's scholarship. And Haruhi _was_ always talking about him. Ranka, with a fading heart, knew his daughter would eventually fall into love. He would have preferred she had chosen Kyouya, or even one of the Hitachiin boys. All wealthy, and all respectable. Sure, Tamaki had money, but he lacked modern intelligence. Staring at him now, watching him sniff miserably, mired in his own desire and self-pity, made Ranka wanted to knock his head off.

"You have a fever," he said to him, removing his hand and lacing his long fingers around the strap of his purse. "What are you even doing outside?"

Tamaki struggled with an answer. He could either be honest, or try and pass off a lie that Ranka would approve of. The truth would upset the father, certainly, but lying was a nasty habit that Tamaki didn't like to entertain. Letting his head hang, as if he were too tired to hold it up anymore, he mumbled something.

Ranka leaned towards him. "Speak up, boy. I can't hear you."

"I said, 'I'm going to see your daughter.'"

The response was firm and unwavering. He hadn't heard Tamaki speak like that to him before. It enraged him, and also impressed him. Perhaps the boy wasn't as weak as he thought him to be. He wasn't pouting in the corner; he was trekking on foot from his home to hers.

"And why would you do something like that?"

Tamaki cinched his hands, feeling the raindrops trickle down his bare arms. He kept himself from shaking. "Because," he said, swallowing once. "I want to confess."

Ranka's eyebrows rose up a level, grip tightening on the umbrella. "Confess?"

Tamaki, for the first time since they had met up, forced his eyes into Ranka's. He held the gaze, drawing himself up a little. "Yes."

"Confess _what?_" Ranka's voice slid out through clenched teeth. Tamaki shrunk back only a bit, but he held a stone gaze.

"L-.." He paused. It felt like he was not only admitting to the one person who didn't want to hear it, but also to himself. Tamaki cinched his fists, eyebrows frowning and fierce. "Love."

The word hung in the sopping air, alone and quiet. Genuine. True. Patient and determined. Unabashed, though slightly embarrassed. Hopeful and pessimistic all at once. The love of a young man for a young woman. The kind of love that believes in itself, and has faith that it will never die. Crazy love. Young love. Silly, silly love.

He and Kotoko had loved like that. Always. It had never changed. It had been lovely, and altogether magical. While he couldn't bring himself to be happy with Tamaki, he could certainly sympathize. While he couldn't force himself to smile, he did manage a bitter grin. Then, with the heel of his hand, he gave Tamaki a harsh shove. The boy did not expect it, and walked drunkenly backwards before falling with a dull "plip" into a shallow puddle.

"Well, then," Ranka said, still smiling. His voice was unfeeling, a little angry. Angry at himself and what he was about to do, not at Tamaki. He couldn't blame the moron for going head over heels for his gorgeous daughter. "Go tell her."

Tamaki, laying on his side in the puddle, not even feeling the sheets of rain that coated him, widened his eyes. He was letting him go? Ranka, the merciless, frightening father of the girl he wanted to badly to hold was just-… letting him go? Tamaki had been so prepared for resistance. The blonde boy had built himself a vessel of iron deep inside, in order to fend off those who would stand in his way. But no one was. His greatest worry stood towering above him and told him to go. To go. Go.

When Tamaki didn't move fast enough, Ranka stooped in his skirt and snatched Tamaki by the forearm, yanking him to his feet, before pushing him towards the sidewalk ahead. Tamaki spun around, shirt soaked through and sticking to his skin, blue eyes unbelieving.

"Go, you idiot," Ranka said, smirking as if sharing a private joke. The words processed slowly, but Tamaki's legs finally began to move. They churned, and burned a little, like the cogs of a fine machine. He started pumping his arms, keeping his breathing even. As he started to round the block, he staggered to a stop, and looked at Ranka over his shoulder. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and bent at the waist, voice cracking from his sore throat.

"You really are a better father to Haruhi than I am, my dear Ranka!" He smiled, the corners of his mouth rising into his flushed cheeks. "And perhaps I never was cut out for the job!"

The rain pounded the surrounding area. Falling onto roofs of houses, the windows of cars, the umbrellas of the people who walked from place to place. In a movie, the rain would slow down and yield sunshine, perhaps a rainbow, and the warmth would follow Tamaki all the way to Haruhi's doorstep. But this wasn't a movie, and the thunder rolled, the sky flashed, and the water never stopped. Everything was dark, even though it was still day.

Tamaki smiled anyway.

"But that will never stop me from giving her anything and everything she wants!"

He started coughing after he screamed that over the thunder to the solitary figure at the bus stop. He could no longer make out Ranka's expression. Tamaki turned away from it and began to work his legs again, grinning like he was winning a marathon. Sneakers thudded the ground as he rounded the corner and kept on going. He managed not to stop, even when he had to sneeze. The seizures put a hitch in his step, and he nearly fell into a light post at one point, but nothing would stop him now. The glimmering, yellowed lights from the apartment complexes blinked in the foggy darkness. He could see her house from here.

Haruhi's house.

He still remembered the first time he visited. So did she, he was sure. Tamaki went to such lengths to protect or please her, he realized as he climbed the steps in twos, in threes, panting so hard he could hear himself groan every once in a while. Most of the things he did annoyed her; she wasn't a very affectionate person. Now, for some reason, he felt a sense of injustice in the fact that he hadn't been awake when she tended to his fever. Stripping him, bathing him. Crying over him.

He wished he had been there to watch it, experience it. Most of all, he wanted to hold her hand, rub it, and tell her never to worry so much about him. He had never known she worried so much. He reached her door, stood in front of it watching the apartment numbers traced on the front like they might be the answer to a difficult question.

His hand gripped the doorknob.

Now, if this were a movie, Tamaki would fling open the door to reveal an elegant Haruhi, eager to greet him. They would embrace, and she would express her utmost joy that he was all right, and she would confide in him that he worried her so. He would laugh, cradle her face, whisper that she was just too adorable when she blushed. She would flush deeper. He would bend just a little, to have her lips meet his. They would hold one another until Haruhi was soaked from his clothes, and she would usher him into a warm bath and dry pajamas, then cuddle on the couch with him until they both fell asleep.

If the theatre of Tamaki's mind had so much power that it could impose itself upon reality, then that is how it would happen.

But life isn't a movie.

Tamaki's mind theatre is never a lucid account of facts.

And Hikaru already had Haruhi against the wall, breathing through his nose, their mouths completely one.


	13. It's Almost Funny

**A.N: Yay for Haru-Hika moments! This is the only one they get in this fic XDD. I had planned to recap this scene on their side, but props to the intuitive reviewer who suggested it! You know who you are ;). I've had a rush of inspiration, and while I like to keep all of you lovely people hanging on the edge for a few weeks for new chapters, this fic might come to a very quick close LOL. WARNING to people who are extreme prudes, or hate any Haruhi/Hikaru action. This IS a TamaxHaru fic, so no need to worry about the outcome, but exercise caution if you get touchy about it ;). I'll try and post again soon ^_^. LOVE YOU ALLL!**

13. It's Almost Funny.

"Will you kiss me?"

It fell onto the air, clumsy and hopelessly unwelcome. Those four words were so strange. Just switching them around could change the entire meaning of the sentence:

'Will you kiss me?'

'Kiss me, will you?'

'You will kiss me.'

Such a simple group of letters; there were only thirteen of them. An unlucky number. Unlucky for both ends of the question. There was a strong chance that no one would get what she or he wanted out of this. He would get rejection. She would get the grim duty of rejecting him.

Then again, they could just as easily receive exactly what they both desired. He gets her, she gets him. The couple stared at each other as the rain thickened outside, smearing against the windows. Golden eyes met brown, soft hands met sweaty, hasty silence floated over their heads and they wanted so much to break it, but couldn't.

A faint rumble made Haruhi stiffen, but she wasn't whimpering. After she had held Tamaki on the kitchen floor, selfishly indulging in his protective embrace only to find that she had neglected his condition, she vowed she wouldn't be so weak in the face of her fears. She cinched her hands, and Hikaru shot up out of his seat at the look on her face.

He laced an arm over her shoulders, using his hand to cushion her head to his chest.

"C'mon," he said a bit gruffly, deciding to drop the previous question and her lack of answer. "I'll get you some music to listen to, or something."

Her feet started moving without her as Hikaru herded her towards her living room. She tried to jerk from his grip.

"No, I'm fine," she said, voice betraying her as it shook. "I don't need anything."

"Don't be like that, okay?" His eyes flashed her a look of begging annoyance. He was peeved about the whole thing, since she didn't even bother to answer his question. Now he was trying to be nice, and she was rejecting _that_ too. He turned his head away with a scoff, trying to keep him voice even. "If you don't want to kiss, that's fine. But at least don't push me away like this."

Her eyebrows puckered and met, half angry, half sad. Mostly confused. It felt like everything surfaced from nowhere. Not only were Hikaru and Tamaki-senpai both aiming at something she never would have pegged, but Kaoru and Kyouya-senpai were rooting each of them on. For all she knew, Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai could be hiding something too.

Betrayed wasn't the word. It was more like, sheltered. She felt sheltered. Haruhi huffed a sigh, wondering how she could have missed all of these complicated undercurrents. It wasn't like her to overlook things like that... Or was it?

"I'm not pushing you, Hikaru," she said, voice shaky as another distant rumble surfaced in the sky, descending over the roof of the house. "I just don't want to give you false impressions."

The redhead stood there, staring at her. This little brunette with the round, brown eyes and low voice. He wanted her, he was sure of it. Yet she assured him he would want other girls. That this was a stage, another level he had to climb. Kaoru always had to remind him that there was another world beyond their own. His brother was constantly aware of that; Hikaru usually wasn't. The Hitachiin had never wanted a world bigger than just two, but now... Now things weren't the same. It scared him.

The windows fluttered with white light, and Haruhi cried out, hands pasting over her ears, preparing for the resounding boom. Hikaru reached over the kitchen sink and snatched at the curtains to shut them, and then dragged her a bit roughly into the living room, sitting her down in the center of the floor as he started drawing all the blinds. He would shut the storm out, if that's what she needed. She watched him, shaking a little, trying to stop him.

"Hikaru, no," she said, her words trembling. "I-I don't n-need-..."

"Just shut up." Hikaru sighed, stepping into her bedroom to yank the heavy cover from her bed. He felt the fabric in his fingers. Tamaki had laid with this. It made his face heat, his hands squeeze over the edges of the blanket. The boss had been in here all alone with her for hours, _laying there_. How could she deny Hikaru one little kiss, when she could have been doing who knows what in there with the Suoh?

He returned, fanning out the blanket and letting it drape over her, so she resembled a little lump underneath. Then he sat down nearby, palms to the floor, legs sprawled out. Hikaru, always the grumpier twin, was more annoyed than hurt by the rejection. He supposed he was angry _because_ he was hurting. Angry because he was embarrassed. Most of his emotions seemed to translate into brooding irritation, now that he thought about it. It was easier to be mad than to be afraid, or jealous, or nervous, or pained. Getting mad kept him from getting too deep into other more vulnerable emotions, and that's how he liked it.

His golden eyes widened as he realized how much he was thinking about himself lately. His thoughts usually involved himself, but they were more along the lines of, "Does my hair look okay?" or "Why would she do this to me?" Now he was actually unlocking things, figuring things out. He smirked with a bitter edge. Kaoru would be proud.

"Hikaru?"

Her voice was tiny and muffled. He glanced over, finding her peering out of the recesses of the blanket like an Eskimo. The thunder cracked, and she ducked back under. It took her a moment to poke her head back out. Hikaru grinned just a little.

"Yeah, what?"

"Why do you want to kiss me?"

Interesting question. Why did he? Did he even have an answer to that? She always knew what to ask, the little sneak. Their eyes watched each other's irises, and no one said anything until Hikaru looked away, sniffing with a disdainful sound.

"I just want to know what it feels like, that's all." And that was the truth. Haruhi could hear it in his voice. He wasn't lying about that. The Hitachiin Host Club member, a boy who entertained girls daily with flare, wanted to know what a kiss felt like. It was almost funny, in a way.

"Oh, well," she said, sitting up a tiny bit. The rain thrummed outside, but the thunder had ceased for a moment. "If that's all you want..."

Hikaru paled, swallowing. "Wait, what?" She was actually going to _do_ it? She was completely against it a minute ago, but now she was all for it? "What you mean, 'if that's all you want'?"

Haruhi was scooting back from him, away from the windows, watching them. The thunder whipped the atmosphere, ripping through it, and she ducked. Her lips pressed shut as she pressed her palms to her head, eyes closed. She spoke after a second, but didn't move.

"I thought that you wanted me to give you like, a girlfriend-kiss," she said quietly, not the least bit shy, "which I'm not going to do. But if you just want to try it out to see how it feels..." Her eyes slowly opened, meeting his. She gave him the smallest of smiles. "That's no big deal, right?"

Hikaru swallowed again, throat suddenly tight. Face pink and uncomfortable. Okay, so this was the situation. He wanted Haruhi as more than a friend, or at least he thought he did, so therefore he wanted to kiss her. She didn't want any part of that, so she offered the alternative: a kiss for something like educational purposes. Just like her to turn something so whimsical into practicality. If he didn't grab the chance while he had it, even if it wasn't exactly what he had in mind, he might never have it again. So he stood up and crossed the room, kneeling in front of her.

"Yeah," he said, voice cracking a little. He cleared his throat, blushing deeper when she smiled wider. "Right."

Did she know what she was doing to him at that moment? Sitting there under that mountain of a blanket, soft lips turned up just slightly. Waiting for him to kiss her, and not even a little bit nervous about it. How could she keep her feelings so flat? Remarkable. It hurt a little, because he knew she wasn't feeling anything special right now. Haruhi was calm and easygoing about it because she didn't stake anything on the outcome. This kiss would mean nothing to her, and Hikaru could tell. Who knew it if would mean something to him either?

Palms on the floor at both sides of her body, his torso hovering just above her crossed legs. He leaned in, and she waited there for him, curtained in her blanket with her back against the wall. Hair a little tousled from the comforter sliding on it. Eyes a little unfocused as she anticipated another roar of thunder. His lips hovered nears hers, and she took in a slight puff of air right before they touched.

Then he pulled back, eyes slit. "Ugh."

She cocked her head, bangs tumbling near her eyes. She reached and swept them back. "What? What is it?"

"Nothing," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. His skin was hot back there, and the little hairs were standing up. "I just..."

She smiled a little, then laughed. He glared over at her to complain that she was poking fun, but gasped instead as her hands seized his shirtfront. It was starling and highly sensual for a moment as he caught his breath, but one look at her face and he could see she didn't mean anything by it except to keep him still. Her sensibility was really ruining the moment.

"Haruhi," he said, pausing as he tried to word his next phrase differently. He sighed when he couldn't. "You're such a buzz kill."

Haruhi quirked an eyebrow at him, smile fading just a bit. Her grip stayed at his shirtfront. "Hey, this is a favor, so don't complain."

They both chuckled afterwards, smiling. The tension in the room cleared away like rising fog. Hikaru felt better again. Sure, it sucked she wasn't going to take any of this seriously, but at least they were having a pretty good time. He took his hands from the floor and let them rest on hers. He let his a set of fingers move to her cheek and stay there. That brought a pink tint to her cheeks.

It was that gentle gesture, that true moment of sincerity, that prompted his lips to lay upon her own. They pressed smiles, breathing easy through their noses for a moment. Their lips just cuddled there, sedentary, before Haruhi parted hers just a little. Hikaru adjusted his position, pressing one hand against the wall behind her, the other cupping around her neck and ear. He pushed himself against her lightly, and she made a soft noise. It wasn't one of discomfort, just surprise. Her hands left his shirtfront to lay across his shoulders, and then she wrapped them around his neck. Both pairs of eyes never opened as they moved against each other, each making quiet sounds every once in a while.

Neither one had experienced something so foreign, yet so familiar. Neither had known the simple pleasure of connecting bodies through mouth, and feeding on something they had never tasted. They were young, they were silly and inexperienced, so they practiced. They tried the things they had seen in the movies, and the things people had told them about. They did all of this without speaking, without opening their eyes. Even when they parted to pant for air, they didn't open their eyes.

Maybe they didn't look because they were deep into the moment.

Maybe they didn't look because the person they kissed was nothing more than a partner for this lesson in body language.

Who knew? They surely didn't.

It was hard to know what went on outside their tiny little circle. Neither Haruhi nor Hikaru could hear the rain any longer, let alone the ferocious thunder and lightning that came with it. And if they couldn't hear that, they certainly didn't hear someone tap on the door.

"Haruhi?... Haruhi!" The voice was muffled behind the wood, drowned by the rain. Not to mention hoarse and stuffy. Neither of them heard, and they probably didn't want to hear. Hikaru was too busy settling his fingers in the tangled but silky locks of her hair. Haruhi was too busy sitting up on her knees, letting the blanket puddle at her hips.

They didn't hear the soft pounding, or the plaintive pleads that Haruhi open the door, so someone might see if she was all right. They didn't hear the doorknob jiggle as someone tested the lock.

They didn't hear the door sweep open, nor the dripping tennis shoes on the wooden floor as they squeaked on the surface.

But they both heard this very clearly: "Haru-!... hii-... hehhh-.. HIH-ESSSKKCHHIII!"


	14. It's All Over

**A.N: WARNING! WARNING WARNING!**

**I am NOT kidding, guys. It's an extra long chapter, even though I wanted so badly to cut it in half and make you lovely people wait ;). Here comes the WARNING part: I wanted tie things up. I wanted no loose ends. In some stories, loose ends are preferable, even natural, but not in this one. Therefore, this thing got pretty crazy. A lot of tension builds up and busts loose, and people confront each other not only on the topics you expect, but ones I'm not sure you thought would come up.**

**I'm nervous, because I don't want this to be some sort of sappy-angst fest that you guys will roll your eyes at LOL. I'm not going to lie; it COULD be cliche and possibly a disappointment. This fic is my first, and seemed to please a lot of you out there. I didn't want to crap up the climax and falling actions. However, this felt right, so I wrote it the way I thought I should. My gut-feeling has never failed me before, so lets hope it doesn't.**

**OR, I could be making this seriously melodramatic, and all of you could be like, "Does she seriously think we care this much? OMG." LOL.. So I'll shut up now XDD.. Just be on the lookout for OOC, and fluff, and angst, and stupid nonsense. And if you hate it, PLEASE leave a flaming review. Because if I suck enough to incur your wrath, I deserve it x3. **

**Without further ado, I give you the second to last chapter of Curing the Love Bug :D.**

14. It's All Over

Because his vision was a little blurry from the rain and fatigue, and because he had sneezed practically as soon as he busted into her home, it was a moment before Tamaki could begin to process what was going on.

Just a moment ago he stood with both hands on her doorknob, staring down at it, twisting it and finding it unlocked. He argued with himself. He wanted to go in, but he didn't. He wanted to see her, but he couldn't. Shouldn't? He had wiped his nose on his sleeve, but since he was dripping like a faucet in more ways than one, he couldn't hope to present himself as a prince for her right now. All of those things swirled through his head as he tried one last time to call her name. Knock on the door.

She didn't come, so he invited himself in. The blonde stepped inside out of the cold, shuddering from the rush of heat he felt as the dry, warm air pressed against him. He rubbed at one of his eyes, beginning to call for her, when he sneezed.

And then, when he recovered with both hands over his nose and mouth, this visage greeted him: Haruhi and Hikaru, together, bodies hanging off each other like they were trying to dress one another with them. His precious girl in the arms of that-... that-... Hikaru had taken it too far this time. Much too far. Tamaki's body, though exhausted from the day, started seizing up, hands dropping from his face as he sniffled powerfully and pressed his fingernails into his palms.

But-... wait..

They were both looking at him, and Haruhi was-... She had her hands on that despicable, shady twin, her body pressed against him. Her face was not compromised, but calm. She looked surprised to see Tamaki, but not relieved. Not happy. In fact, it was almost like he had interrupted something important to her. Like he was-... unwanted. And she had never really wanted him, had she? Tamaki was always getting in her way, mucking up her plans. Annoying her. This was just another one of those times, wasn't it? Hurt flickered over his pale, wet face. He felt it crease his brows and make his eyes soft. Rain blew inside because he had left the door open in his frenzy to get to her.

Hikaru had really been digging into the moment, forgetting everything, even Kaoru, for a second. Haruhi had wiped his mind clean of expectations and allowed him, for the first time in his life, to feel what it was like to be a part of something bigger. A greater design. Something beautiful that they could make together, even if it was just for a few minutes. One of his hands had run up the back of her shirt. The other cupped the back of her thigh. Her hands were in similar positions. She was half in his lap, and neither Hikaru nor Haruhi seemed to know how she got there. It wasn't a big concern, of course. They had been in the moment, and then that moment was rudely interrupted by none other than the boss.

Hikaru stared at him over his shoulder, sizing him up. Tamaki had his soggy tennis shoes planted firmly on the wood, far apart, soaking the floor, damaging it. Tamaki's body hung forward a little as he panted from the run, lungs wheezing as they tried to catch up with his heart, which was jack-hammering in his throat. His hands were curled into loose fists, shaking, his hair hung in his face and at his neck. Eyes red-rimmed with purple smears beneath them. Nose pink from the cold and dry skin. Mouth open to breathe. It was a striking image, since Tamaki was such a showman at school. The prince wouldn't be caught dead looking anything less than stunning. Hikaru let his head tip to one side, mouth caught between a grin and a scowl. Despite his faint concern for his friend, he couldn't pass up the chance to prod at him.

"Need something, boss?"

The voice carried through the room, over the rumbles of nature and the mechanical, modern noises of the washer and dryer. Tamaki's mind was in a sheer state of panic. Shock. Much like the devastation he faced when Casanova muscled his way into Tamaki's sanctum and proceeded to cajole his precious girl into becoming a mob wife. His eyes flinched when he heard his mind-voice echo that last part. _His precious girl_. Haruhi wasn't his daughter, he knew that. So, what was she? A friend? Obviously nothing more than that, proven by this little display. Tamaki had spent much of his emotional energy fending off the shady twins, the affections of Casanova, the threat of men who unknowingly laid hands upon his-... Haruhi. But Haruhi didn't belong to him anymore. She never had. She-... she had said that once before when Tamaki and the others argued over her ownership. 'I don't belong to anyone,' she had told them.

It would be disrespectful for him to cross her now. If this is how she wanted to spend her time, then that-... would just have to be okay? He questioned himself, body cold, head hot. Chest burning. Throat closing up.

"Damn it," was what Tamaki managed to utter after a second, through a stuffy nose.

Hikaru only chuckled, shaking his head. The redhead was prepared for another "Daddy" attack from Tamaki, like the Suoh always did in these situations. The guy would work himself up into a fluster and pop his top in a comical flourish of hilarity for the enjoyment of the surrounding public, then Haruhi would reluctantly calm him down and send him on his way. Hikaru didn't even bother getting up. He turned back to Haruhi with a satisfied expression, but it fell away when he looked at her face.

"Haruhi?"

She hadn't moved, eyes trained on Tamaki. On her senpai of these six months. Her "king," her "father," her friend and her pest. Hers. She kept naming him "hers." And it was very true in those few hours they were alone together that she was glad to have him all to herself. She couldn't admit it to him, or even to her own heart sometimes, but she got a girlish pleasure out of her predicament. Haruhi got to experience things girl could only pray for. Her hands started sliding from Hikaru's back.

Tamaki had stayed too long. He could feel it in his gut. It twisted inside him, squeezing at his innards. He wanted to throw up. Look at them together a moment longer, and he might. His heart just couldn't take it. After all this time, it was the most important realization. It was the first time he was willing to sacrifice something important to him for a selfish need.

And someone had already done it without him.

His family, the only thing he had-... had fallen apart without him.

It hurt him. So badly. Like his insides had turned to glass and exploded, caking him with sharp coldness. He couldn't bring himself to hate anyone. He could only feel despair. Tamaki's blue eyes stared at the floor he was ruining, and he didn't speak directly to them. His voice was weak, but still carried that kingly, regal tone it always did.

The Prince would put on his act, even until the end.

"I-...apologize for intruding. I just wanted to make sure my-.." He paused, gritting his teeth, "..-that Haruhi was all right." He looked up, and smiled at them. "Good to see that someone's with her during the storm. I know she hates those."

They both stared at them. Hikaru couldn't believe what he was hearing. Here he was, doing the ultimate wrong against the boss, and Tamaki was validating it without a harsh word. Hikaru wanted a mischievous fight. Just a little banter like they always did. That game that he and Kaoru had played with Tamaki was one that never got boring.

Hikaru's eyes widened, pupils shrinking in the light when he saw how fake Tamaki's smile was. It wasn't just a game anymore. It was real.

"It's nice to know you'll... always fulfill your host duties, Hikaru," he said, voice catching as he coughed into his fist. He backed up, and nearly slipped. Scrambling and catching himself on the doorknob, Tamaki pulled himself up. His back was to them. Hikaru could hear the rising emotion in the blonde's voice.

"I'll be going now," he said. Tamaki rushed his exiting line, mostly because he couldn't keep himself under control anymore. He managed not to bolt out, but he did slam the door hard with his back, falling against it. Even when he squinted at the sky, letting tiny, freezing pellets of water hit him in the eyes and face, he couldn't erase that painting from his mind.

Dim lighting.

Distant sounds.

Heavy breathing.

Pink faces, caught in blushing surprise.

No regret.

He crammed the heels of his hands into his eyes, wanting to rub it away. Just pretend it didn't happen. Another year, and he would be gone anyway. Another year, he would graduate and leave those two to their-… their-… whatever they would do together.

Alone.

In her house, or his.

God forbid Kaoru get involved.

He choked, half-laughing at the lunacy of the events. Everything just kept tumbling and tumbling, but such was his luck, wasn't it?

"Shit," he said, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. And it made him feel just a little bit better. No one was around to see him act like a child. "Shit, shit, shit."

He hitched an elbow and pressed it against the door, trying to elevate himself from the ground. To stand up. His face was hot, but it could have been fever. His eyes were wet, but that was just the rain. His nose dripped no matter how much he sniffed, and that was purely his cold. His throat had a lump in it…then again, it was sore. At least the circumstances made it easy to cry without acknowledging it.

As he pawed at his nose, throwing all dignity to the wind, he tensed as he noted the vintage Chuck Taylors in front of him, fairly dry and obviously well kept. His blue eyes, itchy with tears and fatigue, slowly ran up the legs and waist and chest, resting on the face.

"Kaoru?" he asked, voice clenched.

"Boss?" the twin countered, eyebrows up in surprise. Also in worry. It was true. He had convinced Hikaru to come visit Haruhi alone. He hadn't thought for one moment, _in a hundred years_, that Kyouya would let Tamaki get out of the house. That damn Ootori was supposed to be watching him.

Kaoru stooped down to Tamaki's level, reaching out to paste a hand over his senpai's forehead. Tamaki sighed but didn't fight. It felt like at least a hundred people had checked his temperature lately.

"You're sick, Boss," he said, voice quiet.

"I know." That was all Tamaki could muster at this point. The adrenaline chipped away like peeling tree bark. At every gust of wind, another slip was ripped into the abyss.

"What are you doing here?"

Tamaki sighed and started to stand. Kaoru put a hand on his arm to keep him down, eyes firm. He kept his umbrella over the two of them to keep Tamaki dry.

"Come on, boss. What were you think-"

Without warning, hands reached down and seized Kaoru by the shirt front, and while one held him still, the other fisted and delivered a set of knuckles to Kaoru's jaw. The redhead yelled out, skidded back, umbrella casted off to the side. Not one, but two limos idled by Haruhi's apartment complex. Kaoru fell on his back, and a sneaker held him down.

"Haven't you hurt him enough, you lowlife?"

Tamaki gaped at Kyouya, who's glasses had either been forgotten on the way or had fallen from his face during the brief show of force. He wore the same upstanding clothing he had worn at Tamaki's house, his hair beginning to mat from the downpour. His eyes were seething, but cold. Kaoru struggled beneath him.

"God, what's wrong with you?" He kicked at Kyouya, but Kyouya kicked back. Tamaki forced himself to stand, and snatched at Kyouya's shoulder.

"Kyouya, stop it!" His blue eyes bore into Kyouya's dark orbs, neither boy relenting, until Tamaki's began to flutter shut. "Aw-… damn-.. it.. heh.." He struggled for a second, trying to hurry the inevitable along.

Kyouya and Kaoru watched for a second, then went back to scuffling. The Hitachiin single managed to strike a hard blow to Kyouya's gut and Kyouya backed off for a second, stumbling to recover. Kaoru scuttled backwards, eyes unblinking and hard, red bangs streaked his face.

"Have you lost your mind?" he yelled to Kyouya, who was coming at him again, fists up. Tamaki wrenched both hands around Kyouya's arm, even as his eyes slammed shut, breath beating through his lungs, his tired body.

"Heh-.. hh!-… HEH-ESCCHII!.. ESSKKCHII!.. SCHII!.. HIIHSCHII!"

Kyouya, in Tamaki's moment of weakness, made a mad attempt to weasel free, but Tamaki's waning strength didn't fail him, and he didn't let go. As soon as he finished he didn't bother to catch his breath, and he panted at Kyouya.

"This isn't-… like you!... Why are you so-… upset!"

Kyouya gritted his teeth, body rigid as Kaoru slowly pushed to his feet. Tamaki's grip shook; Kyouya could feel how tired he was.

"Are you really that dense, Tamaki?" he asked, his tone dangerously low. Tamaki's hold slackened, energy vanishing in a sudden rush. When he started to tip forward, Kyouya turned a little to support his friend. He wanted so badly to deck the idiot for running more than a couple miles in his condition. Kyouya had looked for him on those streets, having an inkling of where the Suoh would eventually turn up. Kaoru watched the two of them, a wrist to his throbbing chin.

"Kyouya," he said, taking a step toward the two of them. Kyouya snarled, and for a moment all his refined Ootori upbringing left his veins.

"I suggest you hold your tongue before I rip it out of you," he said. The other boys froze, more than a little unsettled. "You should lose more than that for what you did to Haruhi."

"What?" For once, Kaoru didn't chorus with his brother, but with Tamaki instead. Kyouya blinked in response to their identical confusion. He adjusted his grip on Tamaki, whose weight became augmented each passing moment as the teen grew less and less able to support himself.

"Don't play dumb, Hikaru," Kyouya spat, shaking a bit of hair from his eyes. "Why else would you-?"

"_Hikaru!_" Kaoru shouted it with such ferocity, Kyouya was shocked into silence, and Tamaki clung to him. "I'm Kaoru, you jackass!"

No one spoke, save for the rain, until Tamaki just started chuckling in a weak, almost unhinged manner.

"Kyouya, where are your glasses? You're practically blind-…. without… the-.. heh.. hih!" He couldn't finish for obvious reason, and Kyouya (mostly due to his utter shock at the mistake he had made) didn't bother dodging the resulting spray.

"HEH-IISSCHH! ESCHHII!... SKKCCHH! HEH-!... HEH-ESCCHKKIII!"

The Ootori was momentarily grateful for the rain; it made it easy to pretend that Tamaki's germs were just more sky-droplets. After Kaoru snatched his umbrella and returned to stand with the other two, a gurgling sniffle from Tamaki, and a second of collection on everyone's part, Kyouya hung his head a little.

"All right, let me get this straight," he said, now holding Tamaki under the armpits, who sagged so low to the ground he was nearly sitting on it. "You're Kaoru, who came to check on Hikaru, whom you cajoled here to spend some alone time with Haruhi, I suspect?"

"And you're here to do the same thing for Tamaki. So you're mad because…?"

Kaoru's counter-attack was on point, and the two of them glared at one another while Tamaki tipped his head back, taking breaths through his mouth, to look at them. They both fought a losing battle; they both realized they were guilty of the same thing. Meddling in the relationships of other people for unselfish reasons.

Kaoru wanted Hikaru to see that there was more than just the two of them.

Kyouya wanted the best for Tamaki; he wanted _happiness_ for Tamaki. And he knew how he could give it to him. He pressed his lips tightly, narrowing his eyes until they shut.

"It would seem that I have no reason to be angry, then," he said. He hitched Tamaki up a little, and both of them glanced down at the blonde, who now allowed the full-scale effects of his illness to present themselves. In short he looked, and felt, like complete crap.

"I didn't know Tamaki would be here," Kaoru said in his own defense, staring at the blonde, only a shell of his former glorious self. "I thought she was alone."

"You aren't idiotic enough to believe that Tamaki wouldn't be going after her, are you?"

"I thought you'd keep him at home! Or call Haruhi to _his_ house or something."

"How could I? He escaped when I wasn't looking."

Tamaki, who had been half-asleep even as he shuddered from the cold, felt the sudden and hot spear of injustice. He started squirming, much to Kyouya's disdain.

"You j-jerks! I'm-m no child! You d-don't have to talk ab-bout me like I'm n-n-not here!" Even after watching Haruhi suck face with that stupid rival of his, this whole charade between his friends, this little game they had put on, was sickening him more. He elbowed Kyouya hard in the same area Kaoru had got him earlier. Needless to say, Kyouya let go with a grunt. Tamaki fell backwards onto the pavement, hands pressing against the harsh surface. He had all he could take.

Now, he was mad.

"Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do? Who are _you_ to tell me how to feel!" He turned on his elbow, craning his neck to glower up at Kyouya, who was holding both arms around his stomach. "I may act like an idiot, but I'm not dumb! I _know_ I love Haruhi! I KNOW I DO!"

He started coughing afterwards, a barking noise in his chest that got Kaoru and Kyouya's full attention. They reached for him, but Tamaki nearly slapped at them to get them away. He didn't want their pity. They thought he-… he _needed _them. And he did, in a way. They were his family, his very precious family. But he didn't want to hide behind them forever. He couldn't. He was capable of more than that, he hoped. And so were they.

His voice gave out as he wheezed, shaking his head, smiling but not happy. He winced when bright light sheeted over him from the doorway they all stood in front of. He turned his head to the right and saw dainty, bare feet. Clean toenails, with no polish. Haruhi's voice was lower and more menacing than the remote thunder.

"You damn rich people," she said. Hikaru was behind her, eyes huge, mouth slightly open, as if instead of staring at friends he was looking at a gathering of space aliens on Haruhi's porch. "Do you even _know_ how to communicate to people?"

Her soft, brown eyes could only be described as fierce as they stared at the slick, wet faces in the darkness. She stepped aside, looking away as if in disgust. Kyouya could see her white knuckles as she gripped the doorknob. She was worried sick about something. Probably Tamaki, who was on the verge of another collapse, it would seem. She sighed, growling a little under her breath in that voice she gets when she's especially frustrated.

"Just get inside," she commanded, eyes flickering to the only blonde in the bunch. "All of you."


	15. It's An Easy Fix

**A.N.-**

**This is the end. No more. Finito. Over. No more cliff hangers, as much as I love them :3. Therefore, it is a long chapter, since I didn't break it up into two or three. I'm sorry it took me so long XD. I started school again, and I wanted to make sure this last installment was good, so I didn't rush it out. I hope they all stayed in character, and thank you for reading to the end ^_^.. I pray that it wasn't too quick a conclusion to such a long-winded tale. There was truly only one way it could end, and since much of it is to be expected, there is only so much I can offer in the way of words on the matter. So, on this note I leave you with a thank you, and I hope you all have a wonderful school year! (If you still go to school XD.. If not, have a nice day at your job.. For those of you who are unemployed, have a good rest of your life ;D)**

15. It's an Easy Fix

Haruhi kept her arms crossed, taking a deep, steady breath. She stared down her nose at the four young men huddled on her floor in towels, three of them shivering from their damp clothes. Hikaru was the only dry man in the room, and he was busily stripping himself down to offer his clothes to Kaoru, who continued to politely reject them. Haruhi surveyed them with a stiff and acute eye. They were all a little worse for wear.

Kaoru's hair hung in his face, clothes damp. His lower right cheek had bubbled up with a hard bruise from the slugging he took from Kyouya, for which the latter received serious and heated retribution from the former's brother. Haruhi had to force herself between them, elbowing them both in the stomach to get them to separate.

Kyouya, now having been jabbed several times in the same tender spot, had taken to sitting criss-cross with his back straight, though he kept his arms over his midsection to guard it from further harm. His glasses were not on his face, giving him a younger appearance. Out of habit, he kept reaching up to his face as if to adjust the phantom spectacles, only to let his fingers fall when he remembered they weren't really there. When drenched, Kyouya appeared much darker and incredibly more sinister than he usually did. It didn't help that the Ootori was still in a terribly foul mood from the day's events. He caught her staring and stared back, though to Haruhi it looked more like a scowl. She approached him and he didn't move, but she noted the way he sat up straighter.

"Kyouya-senpai, lift up your shirt," she said, kneeling down in front of him. He didn't remove his crossed arms from their position.

"Haruhi, I assure you, I'm fine," he told her. His voice carried its usual lofty indifference, the tone he would use when there was nothing for him to gain or lose in such a situation. Haruhi grabbed his wrist, and he sighed at her. "My family owns a prominent medical industry and props many of its affiliates. I think I would know if I was gravely injured."

While the girl was not at all pleased with his snippiness, if he could spout off comments like that she could only assume he felt fine. Closing her eyes and letting her head drop a little, she tried to keep her temper under control. Why was it that these boys always ended up annoying her? She pressed her palms to the floor to rise, listening to Hikaru and Kaoru bicker over something, when Kyouya's fingers flashed out and wrapped around her arm. His face was frozen in a look of chilling irritation. An irritation that could quickly bloom into fury.

"Just what are you hiding from?" he spat at her in a whisper. Haruhi's eyes widened, cheeks coloring. Then her gaze became severe.

"Just what do you mean by that?" She copied his tone. A challenge. Kyouya set his jaw, and jerked her closer to him. The twins were too absorbed in their own world to notice them at the moment. Kyouya pressed his lips to her ear, voice growling.

"There is only one person in this room who truly needs your concern, and you haven't even said a word to him."

Haruhi's body electrified, paralyzed her. All traces of anger vanished as the creases left her face. Slowly, painstakingly, as if in fear, her eyes darted to the blonde boy shuddering under more than a few bath towels, many of them made of only thin cotton that had already soaked through and no longer gave him warmth. The boy's eyes were heavy, trained on the floor, hardly aware. Her heart thrummed once, out of pity. He was so sick. Kyouya hissed at her again.

"Look what he's done to himself, because of you," he said. The dark one leered down at the girl not because he hated her, but because he cared about her. He cared about his best-friend, as hopeless as the boy was, and he wanted them to stop goofing off, wipe the sleep from their eyes, and truly see each other. "He's done all he can do, Haruhi."

Haruhi's eyes welled a little, watching Tamaki cough into his fist, letting his head tip forward. Like he didn't even have the strength to hold it up anymore. He would let it bob occasionally, and snap back to attention. Continuously falling asleep. She swallowed, and whatever she swallowed felt too big for her throat.

"Now," he said, letting her go and starting to stand. "It's your turn."

By now, Hikaru and Kaoru had detected the strange vibes between the other two, and watched them with skeptical, half-lidded eyes. Hikaru was shirtless with his arms hanging off Kaoru's shoulders, and Kaoru had his pants undone and pulled halfway down his thighs. It was an odd sight, if one didn't understand the twins' dynamics. Haruhi slapped a palm over her face.

"Just go," she said, not bothering to look up. The twins blinked in unison, then both started grinning. She felt their hands at her waist before she heard them crawl over.

"Why, Haruhi~?"

"Don't want to play?"

At least they were both back to normal. She lowered her hand to look at them both, Hikaru in particular, who only smirked a little wider. During the short interlude after Tamaki fled from her apartment, and before Haruhi wrenched open her door, she and Hikaru had shared a heart-to-heart on the subject of attraction and come to the conclusion that neither of them held true feelings for the other. The conversation was awkward, to say the least, but effective. The brunette grappled her way to her feet, wiggling out of their grips. She flashed a few glances to Tamaki as she did this, seeing that his head was still hanging down, lulling forward a little.

"You heard me!" She turned, hand on one hip, jerking a thumb at the door. "Get out!"

The twins stared at her, then looked at each other. Then, inch by inch, their gazes fell upon their weak and nodding leader. Then to Haruhi again. She blushed harshly, blinking owlishly as the twins both hooked their grins again.

"MOVE YOUR ASSES! BOTH OF YOU!"

She screamed it so suddenly that even Kyouya jumped a little. Tamaki woke with a falsetto scream, a hand over his heart as he panted, then deteriorated into coughs. The twins practically tripped over each other's other legs in order to snatch up their clothes and dart out into the rain. The Hitachiin limo was still waiting out there on the street. As Hikaru ducked out with a cheeky wave, Kaoru stopped at the doorway and hung inside, smiling.

"Hey, Haruhi?"

She looked up, hands clenched, face red. "What?"

"Thanks." Then he was gone. She narrowed her eyes a little, then sighed through her nose. This, for some reason, felt like the longest day of her life. And it would only get longer. Kyouya had squatted next to Tamaki, giving his back a few pats to try and alleviate the coughing. The Ootori reached up to adjust his glasses, but they weren't there. He scratched petulantly at his head, and rose to his full height.

He crossed the room to Haruhi, putting a hand on her shoulder. He didn't smile at her, but his eyes weren't harsh. They connected in that one moment, and Haruhi, for possibly the first time, could see the raw compassion Kyouya had for Tamaki. His best friend. She had never witnessed them alone together, but she could bet that Kyouya was not the same person in those moments. Kyouya had a family, certainly. He had brothers. But something whispered to Haruhi that Kyouya hadn't truly known what family was until fate brought him Tamaki. Her head tilted to view the boy, who still seemed foggy on the goings-on. As she observed him, Kyouya's touch left her and the door shut with a quiet click.

They were alone again.

Her hands ate each other as she rubbed them together behind her back. Time paused. Tamaki's eyes, bloodshot and hardly able to stay open for more than twelve seconds, found hers in the lamp light. They both swallowed.

"W-where... did everybody go?"

"Home," she told him matter-of-factly. That tone of voice and the practical manner of conversation seemed to jump-start her legs into movement. She started towards him. He rubbed at one of his eyes with his fingers, sniffling, before swiping his sleeve under his nose for the hundredth time that day. His clothes held fast to his body like spandex, cold and tight, encasing him in what felt like ice. He felt a myriad of things at the moment: hurt, confusion, frustration, despair, embarrassment, guilt... The most prominent one, nonetheless, was exhaustion.

Haruhi, as she had done many times lately, clamped her arms under his and started dragging him towards the bathroom. He protested weakly, trying to catch his sneakers on a chair leg as he was lugged past it.

"Wait-..." He paused to sniffle. "I should g-go, too."

"Don't be stupid," she said, half-exasperated, half-shamed. She felt like she didn't deserve his manners or his kindness. "You're sick, senpai... Besides, we have things to talk about." Her voice dropped at the last statement, becoming bashful. She kicked the bathroom door shut and then got down on the floor with him, beginning to gather the hem of his shirt so she could peel it off. He squeaked, keeping his arms pinned at his sides so she couldn't remove it. His cheeks were burning, as were his ears and neck. She made a sound of annoyance.

"Senpai, don't be childish."

"This is in-d-decent, Haruhi-!"

"But, senapi. You're shivering."

"N-no, it's j-just a st-stut-tter..."

She sighed again, this time with real gusto, because she was so tired of Tamaki making everything so hard. With Hikaru, everything had been easy. They both communicated to one another, asked questions, made decisions, and then followed through with it. With Tamaki, everything was a battle. Everything was difficult. She noted Kyouya's words that Tamaki had done his best, and now it was up to her-... but still, the Suoh was just one big tantrum half the time.

Her thoughts flittered from her mind when she heard the tell-tale catch of breath beneath her. When she looked down, she found Tamaki struggling with another one of his monster-sneezes, and after a moment of consideration she decided it was perfect timing. Without a word, she lifted a leg and mounted his torso, pressing his back to the floor by sitting on him. In response he made one of the funniest noises she had ever heard him make, and he had made several funny noises in her time at the Host Club.

"H-Haru-!... hih-.. whe-heh.. what are you-.. d-?"

His voice, raspy as it was, died on his lips as she started pulling at his shirt again. Tamaki was stronger than her, and he kept his arms down, though he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"Senpai, we have to get these clothes off. Stop being an idiot," she said.

He could feel the steady, persistent itch in his nose grow unbearable, and it wouldn't be long before he would just have to give in. He kept shaking his head at her, not wanting to disrobe in front of her, until finally she sat back on her knees and sighed at him.

"Senpai, you've taken your shirt off in front of me before," she said, rolling her eyes away from him to watch the door, hoping he didn't notice her tinting cheeks. "What's the big deal?"

His nose twitched, eyes beginning to slit. His chest hitched up as he laid there, breaths erratic and deep. He had to sneeze badly, but it wouldn't come. Haruhi stared down at him, watching him struggle with what appeared to be more than just a sneeze. He struggled with the same thing she did. Her cheeks flushed deeper. Kyouya told her to take control, and if that's what it would take, so be it. She couldn't count on Tamaki to do much in this state, anyway.

"Senpai," she said, voice didactic, like an adult would address a sorry child. "If you promise to do as I say without throwing any of your little fits, I'll leave you to your business in here."

He nodded desperately, eyes watering up from the tingling feeling. He'd do almost anything at this point. Haruhi stood soundlessly, reaching into the basket behind sitting atop the back of the toilet for the air freshener. She crouched back down and spritzed a cloud of cleaner in front of his face. It smelt of "sea-breeze," or so the bottle claimed. Tamaki couldn't smell anything through his clogged sinuses, but the presence of the cleaner was enough to give him reprieve.

"HEH-SCHHII! HIH-ESKKCHII!... Heh-.. HEH-! SCHIII!" He directed them at the floor, trying to mask them with his arm, but he was so tired he could hardly hope to manage. He went on for several seconds more, each sneeze slow to come but quick to rip through. She rubbed her forehead after they were over, mostly because witnessing the exertion was enough to tire _her _out.

"God bless you, senpai," she said on a breath, before stooping down to peel off his shirt. He was preoccupied with his nose, trying to stem the flow, having not had any tissues for the past few hours. His face was red from fever, effort and probably mortification. She snatched some toilet paper from the roll, and then on second thought just grabbed the whole thing and handed it to him. He took it gratefully, pressing it to his nose. Ah, two-ply. Even commoner accommodations weren't so bad sometimes.

"S-sorry-" He started, muffled from behind his copious amounts of tissue. Haruhi held up a hand to silence him.

"Stop it," she said, staring at his bare chest. The white marble. Not exactly toned, but not limp or saggy. It was very elegant... very French. "I'm the one who should be sorry." She said it under her breath before reaching out and pressing a warm hand against his cool body. While the surface of his body was wet, slick, and chilled, she could feel the heat underneath, the fever. Tamaki shuddered, muscles clenching under her hand as his breath caught. And it wasn't because of an impending sneeze.

"Uh-... Haru-?"

She withdrew from him and stood up, staring at him with a serious look. "Get a warm bath, but not too hot, or you'll collapse. You can put on some of my dad's clothes, okay?" She turned her back to him, then paused. "If you need me, just call."

And then she cinched the door shut and was gone. She stayed right outside, gently pressing her back against the wood and sliding down to sit in front of it, tilting her head back to rest against the wood. She acted out of need and logic, out of deductive reasoning. At least she used to. Now, things weren't so black and white. There was this annoying grey area that hung between them; a place of good and bad, of indecision and awkward, teenage hormones.

She both loathed and appreciated such ambiguity, but Haruhi had to wonder if Tamaki could feel it too. They were separate and contrasting entities. They wanted the same things, Haruhi could tell, but they had clashing strategies of achieving such wants. It made things so complicated, but that's life. Haruhi buried her head in her arms and listened to the sudden rush of bathwater. She could picture Tamaki taking off his pants, but she couldn't go past the underwear. It made her face hot to try, and she started to get disgusted with herself for stewing on such a visage.

It wasn't long before she fled into the kitchen to preoccupy herself with noodle soup and juice to keep him out of her head. The rain slowed and drummed the window with a sluggish pace, the drops supersized to make up for the speed in which they fell. It felt lazy and natural in her small home, like this was something she normally did. Though she didn't normally have Tamaki in her bathroom, at least not before this week. Frowning as she stirred the broth, she realized Tamaki had spent more time in her home in the past 72 hours than she ever dreamed he would. It was funny, she mused, that this pleased her little.

When Tamaki didn't call for her or make any substantial noise for a period of half an hour, she felt the chill of paranoia settle in her stomach. Haruhi certainly didn't want a repeat of Tamaki's first "bathtub" experience (in which he lay in it helplessly while she panicked), so she meandered her way to the door and knocked with light knuckles.

"Senpai? The soup's done," she said. After receiving no reply, she wasted no time in whipping the door open and peering in. Tamaki, inevitably, had fallen asleep in the bath. The pleasant warmth that he had lacked for several hours, coupled with the soothing steam had brought him on the brink of dreams and let him go. Haruhi smirked as she approached, finding it amusing that Tamaki had apparently decided to bathe in his underwear. The Suoh no doubt expected Haruhi to come wandering in at one point.

Stooping over the edge of the tub, she reached into the water and released the drain. As the water level slowly descended, the petite brunette dragged Tamaki as best she could onto a collage of towels she laid down on the floor. It was a wonder she still had any left, at this point. She would have to attend to laundry very soon. Tamaki's body was swaddled in the fore-mentioned towels, keeping his damp body warm. Using a fabric square the size of a dish towel, Haruhi rubbed at Tamaki's hair to dry it, his head in her lap. The vigorous head massage brought him back into a state of vague awareness.

"Haru-?"

"Shhhh," she hushed him, just wanting him to shut up for once. Thought it struck her how often he could say her name, slipping it on his tongue before he tumbled into sleep and after he woke from it again. "Just shush for a minute."

Tamaki shushed for a minute, as she commanded of him. They half-sat, half-laid together on the floor of the bathroom as she dried his hair. As his eyes drooped, open just enough to make out the blurred outlines of the bathtub and toilet, Tamaki couldn't bring himself to the awkwardness he always felt. He was just too tired for that now; too much had passed through his mind, and his heart had endured too many blows. It left him empty and incapable of much else aside from silence, at this point. Tamaki, at the moment, felt emotionally numb. And Haruhi was more in tune with the atmosphere than she had ever been. She felt the pain he exuded, could see it in his creased face. At length, as the tension dragged one, Haruhi brought herself to speak.

"What you saw," she said, her fingers pausing in their motions. "It didn't mean anything."

To her surprise and ultimate dread, Tamaki only smiled, glassy, fevered eyes trained on some point in the dramatic distance. She couldn't tell if he was being showy, or if he really couldn't bring his eyes to focus on anything due to fatigue. She suspected it was a combination of the two. At least, she hoped it was.

"Something like that," he said, stopping to clear his throat and close his eyes. The weight of his lids brought them down regardless of whether he wanted it or not. "Something like that can never mean nothing."

"It did, though," she insisted, letting a part of the towel fall over his eyes and nose, so she wouldn't have to face him as she spoke. He didn't bother to remove the curtain. It seemed like he didn't want to face her either. "There was nothing there. I did it because…because I wanted to learn something."

Tamaki chuckled at that one, his palms to the floor behind him, supporting his shaking body. Shaking from the cold, from the ache in his limbs. Sore, but not uncomfortable. It felt like it was something he deserved, for some strange reason. His lungs seized once with that fluttering breath he had come to know so well, causing his abs to clench and burn. He had sneezed so much, and he had so little energy left to endure it. Luckily, these particular specimens came quickly and without much coaxing. He wrenched his head to the side, trying to keep his mouth and nose pressed in his bare shoulder.

"HEH-SCHHII!"

After feeling the warm spray, he realized how truly naked he was in front of her (save for his underwear, thank goodness), but he couldn't bring himself to care much about it. Did it really even matter anymore?

"HAH-ESCHII!.. HIH-!.. SCHHI!" He took a moment to collect himself, sniffling once and refraining from blemishing her linens by rubbing his nose on them. She blessed him quietly, with an almost guilty tone, and he just ignored it. After a second, he brought himself to speak what he had intended to say before the nasal attack.

"And what did you learn?"

The towel slide across his hair as a hand yanked it off, and he turned to look at her in tired surprise. Then, there was sudden warmth upon his mouth.

His lips.

Soft, much like petals of a flower. Silky, a little damp, plushy. Delicate. It had no taste, but the absence of flavor made it taste sweet, if that made sense. Tamaki's heart took a bounding leap from its perch in his chest, diving into his stomach to swim methodically, with great joy. The King of the Host Club had courted many, many women. A shameless amount, really. But not one of them made him as eager as she did, as nervous, as warm, nor as incredibly sad. She could bring him to the brink of utter hopelessness, and then reel him back into ecstasy. He was aware of the danger of such a weakness, but for all the world he could not regret it. Nothing could bring him to regret something as precious as this.

His insides danced the samba, twisting him up, humming and buzzing in his ears. Something he didn't know he had commanded him, and he dove for her, wrapping her in his arms. Like every moment of waiting, of worrying, of suffering and watching had culminated into this one moment. Her hands at first cushioned against his chest, as if she would make to fend him off, but then her fingers ran down from his pecs to his abs; a ghostly feeling. He trembled. Each ticklish touch on his body made his breath hitch, augmenting the ever-present thrumming in his nose, but he ignored it.

His blue eyes were slammed closed tight. he refused to wake from this, if it was a dream. He wouldn't. He couldn't. It was something he had wanted, but he didn't know he wanted it this badly. The no-shirt thing didn't matter, the Hikaru thing didn't matter. The "Tamaki-is-a-child-so-we-must-protect-him" thing didn't matter either. Only she mattered. Only she.

It could have gone on for eons, and Tamaki wouldn't have known the difference. Even though he couldn't breathe at all through his nostrils, or even hope to, he would rather suffocate than break from her. Her foot finally separated them when she pumped it against his bare chest, jolting him back an inch or two. His eyes swam open.

They were still on the ground. He had pinned her at the wall, his body pressing hers into a sitting position at the corner, where the hinges of the door made their dwelling. He noticed, then, how incredibly hard he was breathing, and how dizzy he felt. How terribly, terribly hard his whole body was pounding. Haruhi had a similar mantle of blush along her face, modest chest rising and falling, her wide, brown eyes staring into his own.

The look on her face brought a shroud of dread across his shoulders, laying it there like the burden of Atlas. He had scared her.

"Oh-…" He could hardly speak around his mounting urge to sneeze and loss of breath, feeling his lungs ache, expand and deflate, even as his nose wrinkled from the itch. "God, H-Haruhi-… I-…"

"Would have suffocated, stupid, if I hadn't stopped you," she said, interrupting him. A coy little smile crossed her face; an expression that was both entirely misplaced but monstrously enticing. Mind muddled, he leaned in to kiss her again. She pressed him back, toes curling against his chest. She could feel his throbbing heart through the pad of her foot.

"You're sick, senpai," she said. He hung his head a little. How many times had someone told him THAT in the past few days? Their skins lost contact, but it was restored with a touch of her hand to his cheek, then forehead. He leaned into her touch, then gasped suddenly as the itch escalated. He sat there, nose twitching, expression drawn, but stuck. She could only roll her eyes at him, before poking his nose with one finger.

"And I don't think this kind of stuff will make it any better."

His breath shuddered like the blinds on a sill. "Heehhhh-!.. iyiehh!.. HEH-SCHII! ESCHII!..SKCHIII!... Hah-ESKKCHIIIIII!"

Even after proving her point he was still quick to disagree, but she shushed him into submission. The next few minutes were cliché, dreamy. Entirely expected by everyone but the two of them until now. Haruhi dragged Tamaki around, dressing him, forcing him to eat, then shoving him on the couch. Throughout the entire duration, Tamaki more and more began to demonstrate the full effects of his illness. By the time his head hit the pillow, he conked out. Of course, he fought valiantly against sleep in the fear that should he slip into dreams, he would wake to true reality. Haruhi had to remind him so many times, again and again, that the kiss _really_ did happen, that she finally pounced him and pressed their lips together once more, just to shut him up.

When Ranka returned home, Haruhi sat calmly reading on the couch with Tamaki's head in her lap, the latter snoring like the congested, ill mess that he was. The girl looked up at him as he entered, glancing at the clock. It was only midnight. Her father came home early.

The father in question glared at the two of them, eyes tired and fierce from a long night at the bar. He was damp from his return home, despite the umbrella and the coast. Without a word, he reached into his purse and withdrew his cell, flipping through his messages.

"I suppose you go my text, then?"

Haruhi had gone back to her book, not bothering to look back at him as her spare hand grabbed her cell from the end-table nearby. Snapping it open, the screen bore the last message she received. She had read it after kissing Hikaru; before retrieving Tamaki from the porch.

It read, in bold caps: IDIOT COMING TO CONFESS. COLD STILL BAD.

Ranka sighed once, lacing his purse from his arm and hanging it on a hook near the door. He kept his eyes from his daughter, finding other little things to attend to. Haruhi did the same, eyes staring at the page of her book, but not reading it.

"Can I assume that this is the beginning of something?" he asked.

She didn't answer right away, turning a page before allowing a reply to float towards him. "You don't have to assume, Dad."

He jerked straight as a pin, voice now a furious shout-whisper. "You didn't-!"

"No, Dad!" She cut him off, keeping one of her hands hovering over Tamaki's exposed ear, to dampen the sound of her voice. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't even know _how_ to-"

Ranka waved his hands frantically, to keep her from saying things he didn't want to hear. "Stop, stop! Fine. I believe you," he said. He did eye her suspiciously, however. "I trust you, Haruhi."

"I know," she said, smiling a little as her eyes rested on a few select words in her book. _And Albert offered her arm to her, as is a gentleman's way, whispering something she could not entirely hear._ Her fingers rubbed the page, smile widening. "I trust you too, Dad."

EPILOGUE

Honey and Mori returned from abroad safe and sound, though they were increasingly curious about the things that occurred in their absence. Haruhi and Tamaki, while working in the Host Club, were as normal as it came. However, after doors closed for the day and the illusion lifted, Haruhi would jam her fingers into the grooves of Tamaki's own and tow him around, much to what appeared to be his delight. They would speak in soft tones occasionally, go off alone together for lunch in the garden. While passing in crowded halls, they would never meet eyes, but exchange special smiles. Tamaki still grew enraged with the twins and their frequent perverse actions with Haruhi (which still occurred almost daily). The adjustment was seamless, to be expected, and yet it offered a dynamic to the Host Club that told the other members, "change is good." Change on all levels. They would grow and learn, succeed. They would cheer one another into their respective fields. Tamaki would never stop pushing Haruhi, telling her what a great lawyer she would be. He would even disappear on occasion after school, so that his presence did not distract her from her studies.

Since that fateful winter break, things would never be the same, but this is the way of life. You will bloom into someone new, and perhaps take your friends along with you. Life will take you strange places, and you will learn more about yourself than you thought you would ever know. Love is the glue that binds us all together, through all the changes and alterations life undertakes. Love is the anchor, the glorious and weightless bond between friends and lovers and family alike. Never forget about it, never push it away. It is life's finest offering to the living.


	16. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**AUTHOR'S NOTE TO THE READERS:**

**First of all, my friends, let me give you all big hugs for reading this all the way through! (At least, I hope you did if you're reading this XD). I had so much fun writing this, and I can only hope that you guys had as much fun reading it! I have to admit, I didn't plan much of it out, so the sequence of events was just as much as a surprise to you as it was for me. When you get good characters (even if they aren't mine.. sigh..), they tend to start acting all on their own :P.**

**Second of all, it has been an honor writing for you all, but it certainly doesn't stop here. If any of you liked it, and have the inclination to give me a request or offer a plot you would like to see play out, I would be happy to take you up on that offer when I have the time. I love a good challenge :D. Of course, many of you are already wonderful writers and could just write it yourselves LOL. For those of you, however, who do not feel comfortable writing I would be happy to take requests (and will give you due credit for the plot idea if I write it). You can leave a review with an idea, or PM me if you're shy about it :3. Be warned, I am a student, so I will be busy MOST of the time, and I cannot respond to everyone. (Not that I expect any requests int he first place XD)**

**Third of all, special thanks to Abregine and ToastAlchemist! You two have really helped me through this fic, and even some of my other ones :D. THANK YOU GUYS! *huggle***

**Lastly, I know I'm overly dramatic about things, but you guys have given me a serious ego-boost these last few months :D. I mean, I wouldn't try and publish something like this, but you've all really made me feel good about my style and syntax. I'm going to keep working to improve ^_^. **

**So thanks everybody! LOVE YOU ALL!~ 3**


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